Monsters
by steam boy
Summary: "He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." - Nietzsche. Being re-written. Rated for language and violence. MoTB.
1. Safiya

A/N: Yep, being re-written. Because I can't stand the sight of it anymore. Maybe a little melodramatic about internet fanfiction, but... it's embarrassingly bad! I am compelled. I apologize to anyone who was actually enjoying the bilge. Hopefully you'll prefer the new version – or at least forgive me. I'm also changing the rating to M; I have no intention of writing anything sexually graphic, but it will be darker than the original version.

There's a lot I'm altering, but I don't intend to stray from the original plot. Character development and details may change. A lot.

Safiya had not reflected on how vague her mother's instruction had been until she actually met with the sight of the stranger on the barrow's floor. Either her memory was utterly failing her at that moment, or the specifics – foggy on their own – had been very unclear. The Red Wizard lingered over the body among the runes, scrutinizing detail and trying to recall if her mother had described the stranger as female. She had been convinced of it, but meeting with the sight of a young boy crippled on the floor gave her pause. Safiya knelt by the stranger's body, doubting the mechanics of her mind as she examined him. He was young – younger than she had expected, but then, she had also expected a woman. She wondered how he had reached such depths in the barrow, let alone how her mother knew of his existence – and why she had been tasked with retrieving and protecting him. But she could ponder that later – and hopefully have her questions answered after she guided him back to her mother's vague associate. There were more pressing matters that needed tending to – as judging by the copious amounts of congealing blood soaking into the tattered, green fabric of his cloak and the ground beneath, he was going to bleed out if she didn't do something. That much, at least, her mother had warned her of.

She couldn't waste her spells. Leaving would not be nearly as easy as entering had been. Safiya knew enough first aid to be able to properly administer it, but was loathe to do so. She could detach herself and work from a purely intellectual standpoint, but that did little to diminish the discomfort she felt upon actually touching a stranger. But she had made a promise, and wasn't one to complain – at least, not openly. She gingerly turned the stranger onto his back and brushed aside his bloodied cloak, inwardly grimacing at the wet noise it made when hitting the ground. Squeamish wouldn't be an apt term to describe her – one who was conditioned to ritually turning things inside out and dealing with the remains of experimental failures was not squeamish. But contact, in general, made her uneasy and mortality was a morbid thought – especially concerning someone she was tasked to aid and watch over. As she moved him, she realized that he'd been lying atop a gigantic sword. Flat-wise, luckily, else her job would have been made that more dire. She reached for the stranger's leather armor, but was intercepted by his gloved hand. She yanked her hand back on reflex and watched as he made a fist at his chest, as it clutching at something. There was a strange assortment of rings on his fingers – some leaden and tilted, others fitting perfectly.

Slightly mystified, Safiya watched as he grimaced. She had dissuaded the binding spell upon her arrival, but was surprised to see him awake already. He was lying in a puddle of his own blood, after all, and the loss was reflected in how pallid his face was. As if he had bled out all of his color. It even reached into his hair, pulling great grips from it; the disheveled mess of it was a blond so pale it was almost white. He was rather feminine, Safiya noted, in spite of his gender. Even somewhat... pretty? The surreal observation made her pause, but a faint whispering brought her back. She only caught the cryptic word, "shard," before the boy's voice became inaudible once more. Safiya hadn't quite prepared for him to be awake.

"I'm here," she said uneasily, trying to mimic the rare – and almost conditionally soft tone her mother had offered her as a small child with her own ailments. "Lie still."

The stranger was not as receptive as she had been. He made no response and Safiya felt relief. He wasn't awake – he was merely talking in his sleep. But he would wake soon, and she had to control the bleeding before then, lest he make it worse. She carefully moved his hand and unfastened the straps of his armor before opening it and immediately blanched.

So he _was_ a girl! The bleeding wound on his chest half-outlined one small mound that was just enough to constitute a breast. At least her memory hadn't failed. Safiya regained herself and tepidly inspected the wound, finding it much worse than she had expected. The stitching quality was abhorrent; it zigzagged and lapsed at random, as if guided by the clumsy hand of a golem. The skin was gaping and wide, the interior deep and dark and for a brief moment, Safiya wondered if the unfortunate girl had somehow lived through a wound to the heart itself. The placement was plausible, but the mortality rate...

"Back!" the girl suddenly snarled, startling Safiya. "Don't touch me!"

She was staring at her with wild eyes, one hand groping at the floor – probably for the weapon – and the other reaching to shove her. Safiya effortlessly deflected it and the girl winced in pain.

"I said hold _still_," Safiya said, returning to the wound. "Without a bandage, you'll bleed to death."

"What?" the girl asked. Her voice was grating in spite of itself, as if it hadn't been used in days. "Wound? What's going on?"

The Red Wizard removed the thread the incompetent healer had used to close it, making the girl hiss aloud. "I don't know how you were hurt, but you are – badly. So let me fix it before you lose anymore blood."

She quieted as Safiya continued to work, something the wizard was grateful for. The stranger's temperament seemed to be insufferable at best. The girl grimaced when Safiya re-stitched the wound and closed it, but otherwise made no protest when she helped her to sit up. Instead, she seemed to have settled into a quiet confusion and blinked slowly as she turned her head. "Where are we? Who are you?"

"We're in a barrow deep beneath the soil of Rashemen," she explained, tying off the thread and withdrawing her needle. She met the stranger's gaze and felt a wave of uncertainty roll through her. At first glance, she thought the girl blind. Her gaze was very nearly empty – the pupils were so faint she could hardly see them within the pools of bright gray. She blinked slowly, furrowing her brows as she seemed to inspect Safiya's face – they trailed over the obvious, and moved to scrutinize the tattoos dappling over her bald head and eyes. From afar, the girl only had only silver – as if her pupils were concealed beneath the surface of non-color. It was a little disorienting and Safiya wondered if her mother had alluded to what the girl's race was, as well as her gender. Some flavor of planetouched, surely. "My name is Safiya."

She retrieved the bandages as the girl continued to glance around. Their surroundings were certainly disquieting. The enclosure was not only circled by pillars featuring runes, but neither were they alone. Not completely. The skeleton of an adult was sprawled across the floor nearby. The girl was frowning at it, but shrugged away her armor and the padding underneath as Safiya began to wrap her torso. The wound on her chest had been carved across a scar – a pale and old scar, it embedded itself into her flesh as a clumsy patch. But that was not the last of her scars. They cut and mottled her shoulders and ribs – some of them burns, some by blade or arrow. Whoever she was, she had seen battle – that much Safiya felt was obvious. When the wizard withdrew from bandaging her, the girl donned her armor again and Safiya helped her to her feet.

"I know you must have questions, but we must leave, now. Before the spirits wake," Safiya said as the girl stooped to pick up her sword.

"Spirits?" she asked, stopping herself in the middle of reaching for a holster – and finding none. She frowned and hesitated. She held out her hands and turned them over, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized the heavy rings on her fingers. The girl was making for a very strange impression, and Safiya banished a complex wonder – something terribly cliché. Certainly she was only... disoriented. "What kind of place is this?"

"You might call it a grave – a resting place. The locals say that powerful spirits dwell here – hostile to those trying to enter... and those trying to leave," Safiya explained. She was in the middle of turning before the girl very nearly lunged at her, grabbing the red folds of her robe before she could properly react.

"Why am I here?" she asked, and it was very nearly a demand, though she didn't appear to be hostile. Instead, the stranger seemed almost... frightened. Safiya herself was bemused by the entire ordeal; there were so many questions, so many she couldn't answer and so many she wanted an answer to herself. The girl was standing nearly a head shorter than herself, and her pleading expression made her look even younger. Safiya felt an uncomfortable pang of pity.

"I don't know how you got here. But I'll take you to someone who might. I'll take you to her and make certain that she gives us _both_ some answers," she said and the girl released her robes. "But that's _after_ we get out. For the moment, haste is all that matters."

"But," the girl stalled, gesturing to the pillars and floor, "what are these? What do they mean?"

"Yes, they... caught my eye as well," Safiya admitted, drumming her fingers on her quarterstaff as she followed the girl's hand.There's almost nothing about Rashemi runes in the academy archive, but... that rune, there."

Safiya pointed to it and the girl ventured forth, the tip of her greatsword dragging along the earth in her wake. "It's called, 'The Dancing Man.' It depicts a circle of dancers, surrounding an... evil spirit. The runes were part of the binding spell that held you, but I have dissolved its power. Come, we've been here too long as it is."

But she wasn't listening. Instead, she seemed to be enticed by the rune, peering closely at it and turning her head. The girl rose out a hand and a bolt of panic hit Safiya. "Wait! No!"

The girl's fingers had only just brushed the depiction before she seized, eyes widening and hands trembling as something happened. Safiya nearly fell over herself running to her aid, catching her just as her knees buckled. She hadn't known what were to happen if someone touched any of the runes, but the magic was powerful – too powerful for carelessness. Already she had lost control of the situation and already her charge had found a way to harm herself. The focus returned to the girl's pale eyes and she blinked several times.

"What was that? What did you see?" Safiya asked, host to both a terrible concern and curiosity. The girl met her eyes with her uncomfortable stare, furrowed her brows and studied her – as if looking at her for the first time.

"You," the girl said unevenly and Safiya relinquished her hold as the girl steadied herself, leaning to grab the hilt of her sword where it had fallen. Her gaze never faltered from Safiya's face and trained itself with a sharp, paranoid sort of edge. The wizard was nearly incensed to know that a girl she was risking life and limb for didn't trust her – because she had done the very thing she had told her not to. "Or... not you... someone who looks like you. I don't know. She had golden skin like yours, your eyes, and tattoos like the ones on your face."

"They're thoughts... or memories. Maybe from within you, maybe from without," Safiya explained, "the Rashemi claim that runes can trap dreams... or set them loose. It's very possible you only had what was almost... a moment of deja vu, perhaps. As far as I'm aware, we've only just met for the first time."

"There was also a laughing little boy," the girl said after a pause, as if she heard nothing Safiya had said. "And... a wall. A wall of screaming faces."

"This place is... not right," Safiya said, turning to meet the ascending slope that lead out from the pillars. The predicament was deeply unsettling, likely to the both of them. The girl followed after a spare moment to stare at the rune she had touched, as if it may reach out and bite her. The wizard could hardly blame her. "Everything echoes so strongly. I will be glad to leave this barrow behind."

They had hardly ascended the incline when Kaji perked up and revealed himself from the shadows in the cavern.

"Mistress," he said, gesturing to the forks of caves beyond. "I hear something in one of the caves up ahead. Perhaps it is Ispet and Sefi..."

"No, Kaji. I sent them to find Lienna as my mother asked. They could not have returned from the city so soon..." Safiya answered, pausing briefly as the girl glanced up and saw the homunculus for the first time. She nearly tripped backwards over herself.

"What is that _monster_?" she asked, flinching away as if Kaji would strike her – incidentally, Safiya wouldn't have blamed him.

"Pfft! What did she call me?"

"Monster?" Safiya repeated, marginally insulted. She had shaped Kaji, and she hadn't done so with any superficial notion of appearance. This girl – her eyes were a little strange, her hair was cut and she was covered in scars, but she clearly knew what it was like to be beautiful. On the outside. Safiya had her doubts about the inside. "He's unusual, yes – maybe even repulsive to some, but I like him that way. Between his face and his demeanor, there is no deception – no lie."

Safiya read what might have been a little glimpse of remorse before the ground began to rumble.

"So much for going unnoticed... the earth spirits wake, ready yourself!" she cried as the girl started and drew her greatsword. The girls met the earth elementals with spell and blade with an ease that Safiya had not been expecting. The nameless warrior was clumsy with her attack, and often stepped right in the path of Safiya's spells before darting off – swung mostly by the weight of her weapon as she struck enemy, using the motions as some improvised method of dodging. It was a peculiar combat style, and one that the wizard had not seen before. She had wondered briefly if the girl even knew what she was doing – but they made it through without any mortal injuries, and at least made a successful team.

Yet there was little room for smooth sailing in an underworld so laden of treachery. The girl and Wizard crept through a threshold, a hole in the cavern wall, advancing out before a large, ethereal wolf. It glowed in a lavender sheen, its frame allowing for small deposits of spikes, radiant as her intangible pelt. This was a powerful spirit, an ancient guardian that stood among the feral hierarchy of the elementals. Safiya felt a wave of uncertainty as the beast's luminescent eyes settled upon the stranger and its muzzle contorted with a snarl.

"_There_ you are Red Wizard... we caught your scent on the empty air and it shook us from our sleep," the wolf growled, her hackles risen and head lowered to protect her throat. Dead or not, it was a creature of fierce instinct. "But you were _alone_ when you went below..."

"I don't parley with wolves," the girl, tactless and almost _bored_ by the tone of her voice, snapped. "Get out of our way."

Safiya preferred to take a slightly more diplomatic approach; the beast was much stronger than the others that stood in their way, and should they meet with the lord of the dead...! The wizard knew to pick her battles carefully. "Spirit – who are you?"

"My name... it was Nakata," the wolf said after a brief pause, then shook her head slightly. "Memories flow together in this place... it is difficult to know which are your own. My howls led an army of beasts across the groaning ice of Tirulag... and there I died, struck down by an eater of souls - a monster that wore the skin of a man... now tell me _your_ name, mortal. Or we'll tear our your throat, and pry it from your ghost."

Nakata was speaking directly to the girl, who stared at her for a pause before touching her forehead and squinting. She looked as distant and confused as the wolf had before recalling her name, but the stranger – if she had an answer – didn't offer it. "No. Stay back, and we'll leave peacefully."

"Leave?" Nakata tilted her head, then growled deeply. "No... you will not. Something was trapped in the Cavern of Runes... a poison at the heart of our dream... swallowing memories and names. Anything that emerges from there... cannot be allowed to walk free. Those were the words of our god, before he sank into slumber."

"Then let me meet with this god, and change his mind," the girl said, clearly implying a threat. She brandished her greatsword to add emphasis and Safiya sighed. She had memorized an artillery of spells, but she was still in unfamiliar territory and disliked a gamble.

The wolf's nostrils flared as she rose her head. "What is that scent? Blood... a wound that should have been mortal, but was not..."

The girl's free hand returned to her chest, hovering over her bandaged wound. Her eyes narrowed as one of her feet lingered back, as if she might bolt.

Nakata drew back suddenly, her eyes widening. "No, something deeper... vile... and _familiar_. Why do I remember - !"

The moment had descended so quickly, but it haunted the wizard, hanging like the fetid touch of a nightmare over her memory. There was almost a sigh in the atmosphere – no, not a sigh. A groan, as the temperature felt to suddenly descend several degrees. Safiya felt a terrible disturbance from the girl, and turned just as the greatsword clattered to the floor of the barrow. The stranger had doubled over, trembling and holding herself as if in leagues of pain. Safiya started, and panicked over what to do moments before the situation escalated and stole away any choice she had. She watched as the girl's shadow warped and stumbled backwards over herself as it rose, twisting itself into an elliptical shape. It verged over her and tendrils began to sprawl out from somewhere within it. They shot out suddenly, reaching towards the panicked Nakata and descending upon her. Light was very nearly stolen as the spirit yelped in either pain, or terror – or both. The lingering loyalists turned tail and bolted, crying as they disappeared through different tunnels as the darkness slowly withdrew, returning to shadow and regaining shape.

"That wasn't a spell..." Safiya began, taking a moment to command her voice as the stranger slowly released her arms. She was pale, but any wound she had contacted through their short journey through barrages of spirits had been healed. "Or a divine incantation. How did you _do_ that?"

"I... I don't know," she admitted, her hands still trembling violently. "It was... something welled up inside of me."

"Whatever it was, you destroyed that spirit," Safiya said, trying to resist the urge to assault her with questions. She had seen spells reminiscent of whatever power that had been, but had never felt anything like it – nor could she understand exactly what had happened. But... she supposed there would be plenty of time for questions on the road to Mulsantir. "Nevermind – we have to keep moving."

The display seemed to, for the most part, ward the spirits away from the both of them. There was little disruption before they reached the threshold to a room encrusted with jewels. Safiya looked around dimly as the girl ventured near a risen slab of stone – the bones of some great beast lied out in perfect formation across it.

"The tunnel was clear when I passed, now it's sealed itself shut. Strange... they have turned the earth against us," the wizard observed, nodding towards a blocked off remnant of some craggy opening.

"We could try smashing through the barrier," the girl suggested, brandishing her sword. Safiya could see that her initial judgment of her temper had been correct.

"The barrier is alive, the soil itself is full of spirits. It will just reform as fast as we damage it... if we _can_ damage it," Safiya explained. The girl frowned, but their setback invited an opening for questions. Something about the stranger – many things, really – had been troubling her, but she wasn't quite sure how to reach the subject tactfully.

"Do you often find yourself waking up in strange lands with unexplained injuries?" the wizard asked and the girl offered a doubletake, clearly taken off her guard. "I'm sure you get that one all the time."

The girl paused, looking contemplative for moment before glancing back to her. "You healed me when you woke me up."

"You're welcome?"

"How did you know I'd be injured?"

The stranger clearly wanted to cut down to business as soon as possible. The sentiment wasn't lost on Safiya, who was beginning to seriously doubt the possibility of any camaraderie. "I was tasked with seeing you out of this barrow safely. Now, if you don't mind – let's keep moving."

"I do mind," the girl snapped and closed the distance between them, glaring up at her. "I'm not going with you until I know why you're here."

Safiya sighed. The stranger was difficult, but she could hardly blame her for wanting honesty – and felt a sliver of respect for her insistence. "I'm guessing you rarely settle for half the facts... That's a good trait to have. A powerful wizard at my Academy - my mother, actually - told me you'd be here and ordered me to find you. My instructions were... rather brief... and given in haste. Trust me when I say I knew only that you'd be here, and likely to be incapacitated. As for _why,_ well... that's something we'd both like to know."

"You don't know anything?" the girl asked and Safiya shook her head. She turned to the bones on the rock, letting silence fill in their space briefly. "Do you know my name?"

"I'm afraid not," Safiya said. "As many of the details of you or your situation, I was spared that one."

"Oh."

"Well... will you tell me your name?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," the girl admitted, thoroughly confusing her. "I don't remember it."

"You don't - ?" Safiya had begun to ask before the stranger rose her greatsword and brought it down over the bones, shattering them. The wizard started as the blockade of earth began to quake and disperse, as the air was filled with the howls of a horde of furious spirits. The wizard defended herself as her nameless ally launched herself into the fray, sweeping and whirling with the momentum of her blade, taking out spirits in the process. Safiya was skeptical, at best, of the stranger's sanity – but in that pause, and nearly ironically, the voices returned.

She had been hearing them for as long as she could remember, and while the timing was usually convenient, sometimes they had a way of cropping up when she needed them the least. Between the snarling and cries of the anguished spirits, there was a whispering of mingled voices – faint at first, but it grew to shouts at random intervals, pulsing with no real rhythm.

"Stop it... leave me alone... not here and not now," the wizard began muttering to herself as they rushed away from dissipating spirits they'd felled. Audibility was meaningless to her at that moment, as her ears were filled with the rushing of the voices. They were so excited by something that she couldn't pick out any clear words in their babbling.

"Are you okay?" there was a final peak in the noise before they silenced, and Safiya was surprised to see the girl standing over her, returning her greatsword to its holster. Safiya looked around, and saw that none of the angry spirits remained. She held her head, muttering to herself outside of the fray – surely making something of a spectacle of herself.

"It's nothing," she said, feeling her face flush with embarrassment – and something a little more vague. The way the girl was looking at her was somehow, almost, familiar. But they had never met before. Safiya ignored her strong curiosity and gestured to the tunnel ahead of them. "Look, the tunnel's angling upward. We're nearly out."

She reached up, touching an elongated, twisting tree root that cropped out overhead. The stranger glanced at her and turned to continue on. "Those bones you smashed – the bones of a great bear. The Rashemi say a god dwells in this place... an angry bear god who rules the barrow. Rashemi tales are colorful but they're always true in part. Be on your guard."

She had hoped that they could avoid him, but as the two neared the exit, the void beyond began to peel away as a varied luminescence began to glow. Safiya grabbed her staff and the girl followed suite, readying her greatsword.

"What stirs the air and smells so foul? Go back... die in the silence and dark. I am tired and ill of temper," a snarl reverberated through the air, deeply baritone and guttural. The wizard and warrior stepped through the threshold, meeting with its owner, the local dead god. His aura was great and shimmering, the long fur of his nape pearly and white, rising to a crest where fire bloomed. He was a living band of color set into motion, touched by thousands of dreams and distorted in a way that reality never could never mimic. From the base of his jaw and flowing out to his nape, thick vines of orange tendrils curled as blue fire encircled his massive, red paws.

"I have no argument with you. Allow us to pass, and we'll leave in peace," the girl answered him, and Safiya noted that her tune changed quickly in fear. The bear god scoffed aloud.

"In peace? You, who smashed the bones of my grandfather?" he thundered. "And who has silenced faithful Nakata? Have her fleas devoured her at last? I think not. I know what you are, little one. I _smell_ the hunger that wakes in you."

And now it was time to return to her duties. Safiya stepped before the stranger, her grip on her staff tightening with a mixture of resolve and worry. "I don't care _what_ you smell, you will _not_ have her."

The god's feverish stare snapped upon her. "What do you care, Thayan? I know your kind. You love your own lives above little else."

"You don't _know_ me. But I know _your_ kind. I know your present form for all its... color... is only a shadow of your true self. And I've shaped and bound far greater things than you," Safiya met the stare, angry at his prejudice, at his accusations.

"And I smell a wild storm in you, Thayan. Does your ally know the secrets you hide? Grief and confusion beyond measure... and something else..." the bear continued, his gaze flickering between the two. All before the wizard could retort, he bore his ethereal fangs and relinquished a furious snarl. "Enough words! By the oath I swore, _neither_ of you will leave my den!"


	2. Cal

"So, you mean to tell me that you don't remember your name? And you have no idea how you wound up in the barrow?" Safiya asked once the two of them had settled down to make camp. The stranger had promptly collapsed upon the bedroll Safiya laid out for her, and that seemed to be the extent of her helpfulness, as the rest was left to the wizard. The bear god and his party had been harrowing, and she had sustained a few injuries – but with her combat style, Safiya ventured to wonder how she even kept all of her limbs intact. The girl shook her head.

"No, I don't," she said. "I don't remember a name. Or... anything. I remember a lot of rocks falling from somewhere, but that's it."

"Perhaps one hit your head," Safiya suggested. She didn't imagine the girl might catch onto the passive aggressiveness in that statement. But she wasn't entirely surprised; she had suspected there was very little identity to go on since the barrow. "Or someone cursed you. Either way, hopefully Lienna can give us some answers when we meet her. Is there something I can call you until then?"

After a long pause, the girl answered. "Cal. I think. Call me Cal."

"Very well. Why Cal?"

"It's sort of familiar," she said, twisting to glimpse the stream nearby. The night was cold, as Rashemen's temperature was hardly forgiving. Winter would be upon anyone unfortunate enough to remain there and then the snow would be miserable. Safiya missed the dry heat of Thay. She had not been in Rashemen for more than a day and she was already homesick. "Where are you from?"

It took her a moment to realize that Cal had asked her a question. She hadn't been expecting any attention. The girl had made her way to the stream and was washing the scrapes and cuts she had obtained from the battle.

"I've spent my life at the Academy of Shapers and Binders... studying magic for as long as I can remember. The Academy is far south of here. This is actually my first time beyond the lands of Thay. Between my students and my own magical research, I don't have much time for travel," Safiya explained. "Most people think Red Wizards are all disciples of some occult school – but there are actually hundreds of academies. I teach transmutive and transformative magic at my mother's academy – my specialty."

It was something of a relief to know that she wouldn't be scrutinized based on the Red Wizards' reputation. "Who is Lienna?"

"An associate of my mother... or so I've gathered. I've never met her – or even heard of her, until I was tasked to bring you to her," Safiya said, all too aware of how hopeless the situation looked from afar. Or up close. "Whoever she is, hopefully she'll be able to grant us some answers. I sent a pair of servants to find her... and they have yet to return..."

"Servants?"

"Homunculi - sentient creatures crafted by my magics," Safiya said and Kaji perked up.

"Sort of like me - only they're not as smart. Or as good looking," he said, flitting near Cal. She glanced him over with a skeptical look. Safiya chuckled.

"Much like Kaji - only these were more primitive creations. It would not surprise me if they got lost on the way."

"What can you tell me about... wherever we are?" Cal asked, gesturing to their surroundings.

"Rashemen's cold winters and unforgiving landscape have crafted a folk that are... well, amusingly enough, cold and unforgiving. They are especially distrusting of Red Wizards," Safiya said. "But this is my first encounter with these lands - what little I know is based on rumors of crazed barbarians and the masked witches that rule them."

The conversation dwindled after that; Cal washed her injuries, Safiya threw together a quick recipe for the road and the three of them ate before retiring to bed. The night was long and fraught with insomnia and strange intervals of dream among nightmare. The voices were especially loud, weaving between excite and anxiety, speculation and relief. Imagery of the wall was frequently summoned when she shut her eyes, and was left with a strange vertigo of distinct emotion. A determined sort of indignation and the oily residue of fear met with an obscure feeling, so strong that the wizard had awoken to tears rolling down the bridge of her nose. A feeling of warmth surrounded by a deep cold, a feeling so extreme that it was scalding. At one point in the night she had been stirred by the sound of someone retching, but returned quickly to sleep. The horizon fringed with dawn, crimson bleeding through the shadows of the woodland as Safiya slipped back into unconsciousness as though it were the arms of a long, lost lover.

It had been raining for several hours into the afternoon by the time they had arrived in Mulsantir, and the olive robes Safiya had changed into were utterly soaked. Cal was in no better state, her padded armor weighed down whilst wet and her pale hair stuck to her face. The both of them were eager to dry off and warm up, and after receiving direction from a local merchant mired outside the gates, they were practically running to the Veil theatre. Mention of angry spirits made the wizard nervous; of course they had not successfully 'killed,' the bear god, but Safiya had at least hoped they might get in, meet with Lienna and get out as soon as possible. They did not need anymore distractions on their journey. The locals hardly noticed them as they quickly splashed through the muddied paths and quickly sought out their destination. Near the town square, it was a clearly established theatre, embellished with trappings of costume and occult. They ascended the steps and threw open the heavy doors.

Within, the shadows converged upon them and there was a brief moment in which relief turned to start and confusion. "Safiya!"

The doors swung shut behind them, shuddering loudly as Safiya placed two and two together. She recognized the voice, and...

"The daughter of Nefris, _here_? I should have recognized those two homunculi as your handiwork..." the voice continued. Dim red light flared to life like an ember, revealing a Red Wizard center stage. Safiya scowled at him, recognizing him as a student from the academy – but otherwise there was no reason she could fathom why he'd be there.

"What are _you_ doing here? And what did you do to Ispet and Sefi?"

The wizard onstage chuckled. "We caught them nosing around the theatre... the gnolls toyed with them a while, before dismembering them... your primitive little creations are no more."

Safiya felt a fierce and sudden anger rise within her, but Cal reacted first. She drew her sword and began to advance.

"Explain yourself, wizard!" she shouted. It was a voice that, at first glance, Safiya wouldn't have expected from someone of such a small frame. It was clearly the girl's voice, but the command it held surprised her. The Veil was a theatre, and designed to employ the use of an echo – and the effect was not lost on the boy she addressed. He recoiled.

"I – I mean – we... uh... he wanted Lienna dead – said it was part of the plan to overthrow Headmistriss Nefris!"

"What? _Who_ ordered you here?" Safiya shouted at him.

"It... it was Araman. Surely you must have _known_, Safiya. Or was your mother so _blind_ that she never saw the signs..."

She felt fury roil within her, threatening to lead her to act on impulse. Cal glanced to her, then returned to the boy.

"Are you so easily fooled?" she asked, nearing the stage before halting. "You're only a pawn. If you were sent so far and in such a small number to stage a coup... clearly your master doesn't expect you to return."

The boy onstage stared at her, beginning to stammer something but she interrupted him, gesturing to Safiya. "You're up against a wizard thrice your skill and a warrior. And you're on your own. I don't suppose you were paid in advance..."

"Perhaps you're right... I'm not throwing my life away for this... for Araman's vendetta. Let the others deal with you..." he began and Cal lunged onto the stage. The boy dodged the sweep of her sword, falling over himself as he leaped from the stage. He ran for the entrance and Safiya's glare seemed to stop him in place. He glanced back and forth between the two girls, the color draining from his complexion.

"Get out of here, before I change my mind and incinerate you," Safiya hissed, gesturing to the door. The boy bolted.

"A more timely entrance I've never seen, in forty years of theatre!" a woman's voice exclaimed from the darkness. The girls jumped in surprise, and turned to see a dwarf woman and her comrades lingering at the side of the Veil. Cal climbed off the stage as the woman ran to her, and Safiya quickly followed. She recognized from the very minimal description that this woman was Magda – an associate of the associate. "Lienna told us you'd be coming, though she said nothing of slaying Red Wizards, nor of saving our lives! The Red Wizard wasn't alone; there's more of them and they followed Lienna into the back room."

Cal immediately turned, but Magda grabbed her wrist. "Wait! Lienna is no ordinary theatre matron. She has a secret – a shadow door that leads to a... a _reflection_ of the Veil. She's fled through the shadow door, I'm sure of it. Still... such tricks will not stop the Red Wizards, not for long."

She turned Cal's hand over and shoved something into it. The girl opened her hand, revealing a small black stone with white marking intricately painted across it. "As long as you've got the stone, the shadow door will open for you and you'll be able to go through."

"It swallows the light and reflects none," Cal observed, knitting her brow.

"Yes... it's from that other realm, beyond the door. Like attracts like, I guess," Magda explained, as though she had hardly a clue as to what it was, herself. "Bring it to a weak spot between the two worlds and the door opens. At least, that's what Lienna told me. Quickly now, through the door at the back of the stage."

They moved quickly, darting up the stage and twisting into the threshold of the back. Mid-stride, the voices converged and one split apart from another – there was mingled whispering between the two and one of them settled. _Not now_... Safiya stumbled and winced as a shriek soared through her head, temporarily scrambling her own thoughts.

"Safiya?" she heard Cal's voice, though she could not react. A ringing was growing louder and louder through her ears, and her skin felt as though it had begun to sear and peel.

"No, it's... something's not right, I – I told them, not now..." she muttered, trying to combine words into a sentence that might disguise her plight and placate her ally's worry, but the shriek rose to an inhuman peak. "My head!"

"Safiya," Cal said again, sounding concerned. She met the wizard's side and Safiya tried to turn from her.

"There's a ringing in my ears, and... my skin – it's burning," she said, holding either side of her skull. "No, please don't!"

"Don't what? What's going on?"

"I," Safiya said as the noise began to waver and settle, "I thought you were trying to help – I was going to say don't bother. The pain is... subsiding."

Cal stared at her with those unsettling eyes, clearly unconvinced.

"I'm fine, really."

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but I need to know if you're going to be alright," Cal said, frowning at her. Safiya was unsure if her concern was genuine or if it was borne from mistrust. She couldn't quite blame her either way.

"I wanted to... I mean... thank you - for your concern, that is. But I suppose I owe you an explanation," she said hesitantly, not particularly wishing to relinquish this secret, but knowing it would eventually drain Cal of her ability to trust in her judgment. "I sometimes hear voices that are, well, not quite my own. Though this is only the second time that the voices have been accompanied by pain. I keep hoping to find some logic to the whispers but... they just come and go without reason."

There was a brief pause as Cal observed her. "What do they say?"

"They sound human... familiar, almost. Quite often, the voices are more of a distant haze. But sometimes, whole words come across. During my apprenticeship, I read from the wrong scroll and, not knowing what I was doing, nearly incinerated myself. Before I could finish the chant, a voice in my head cried out and broke my concentration. It saved my life," Safiya said, hoping the right message was getting through. It may have been a mark of madness to trust in anything that wasn't quite there, but it had also proven quite helpful. "But I've... rambled far too long. We may not have much time..."

They stepped into the bedroom and were immediately assaulted by a gnoll. Safiya nimbly leaped out of the way, but Cal was too slow, and the axe's dull blade bit angrily into her shoulder. She fell with the force of the attack, rolling across the floor as Safiya shouted an incantation. The creature howled as flame burst out across its body, hungrily devouring fur before delving into its flesh. It ran itself into the ground, snarling with pain before quieting as the fire went to work on several vital organs. Cal rose, holding her wounded shoulder and glancing towards the bedside mirror. She and Safiya shared a look before lunging towards it. At once, darkness bloomed in a single blast; a yawning void twisting inside out from the very sparse light offered within the room.

"Look at this," Safiya mused, staring at it in wonder. The rippling within was lighter – pallid, stripped of color and shimmering like murky water.

"Let's go," Cal nodded to her and the girls stepped through the portal. They stepped into a plane of battle; there was no color in this realm, but only the shades of light and darkness. The immediate attack was supplied by a Red Wizard, summoning creatures – two erinyes, their voluptuous, beautiful bodies bound in black leather, each sprouting a pair of dark wings. Safiya and Cal managed to fell the creatures easily enough, moving to silence the Red Wizard.

"We're lucky that the length of your amnesia doesn't extend to your training – whatever training you've received. I've never encountered a style like yours before," Safiya said as they carried on through the muted, shadowy rooms.

"I only do what feels natural," Cal responded and Safiya was somewhat alarmed by the confession.

"You don't remember any rules of swordplay?"

She shrugged, as though rules were of no consequence in her mind. "I don't know the first thing about swordplay. It's all reflex – I just... wield the sword. Everything else happens on more or less its own."

Safiya sighed as Cal pushed open the bedroom door. "Well, we're lucky that muscle memory isn't afflicted by amnesia."

They entered the following room – so strikingly similar to the one with the gnoll, and yet.. different. It was flipped, a mirrored, black and white image. There was a table in the middle of the room, a terribly morbid bit of imagery. What looked to be blood set into the woodwork – and lingered at the leather cuffs attached to its surface. Was it an operating table? What kind of woman _was_ this Lienna? Cal seemed particularly struck by the gruesome scene; she stared at the table, eyes wide and brow set with a sort of fascinated horror.

"Cal?" Safiya asked, watching as the girl massaged one of her gloved wrists. She ignored her and moved closer to the table, digitigrade as if sneaking past it, but nearing to turn and squint at it. "What is it?"

"This table is... familiar," she finally settled, struggling with the final word. She reached out and smoothed her fingers over the table, across the bloodstains and suddenly grimaced, her other hand soaring to grip at her chest, where her wound had been. She paused, narrowing her eyes until they shut, recoiling though leaving her hands in place. Safiya was perplexed by the behavior and Cal's hand eventually withdrew and fell from the table as she took several steps back.

"You paused... did you see something? A vision – or recollection, perhaps?" Safiya asked.

"I... don't know. A memory, I think. But it's.. confusing. Two women were standing over me, and one of them... pulled a shard of something silver from my chest," Cal said, letting her hand linger over the scar before removing it. "She said it was, 'for love.'"

That would certainly explain the wound, though it rose about fifty other questions. "In the Plane of Shadow, memories are closer to the surface of the mind. Such visions are not uncommon, especially when a memory is strong... or suppressed."

Cal paused as if contemplating this for a fleeting moment before turning on a heel and walking towards the door to the stage. Safiya quickly followed, meeting her side as she opened it and walked onstage.

"Safiya? What are you doing here?" a man's voice echoed out from the bales of hay used to seat an audience. The girls peered down at three Red Wizards, flanked by erinyes.

"I thought I smelled incompetence..." Safiya remarked snidely. Cal glanced to her.

"Is it common for rival Wizards to follow you around?"

"When I left trying to find you, certain... overly ambitious wizards were trying to force my mother out of power. I'm not sure why they're here..." Safiya explained, her voice tapering off as she glimpsed him, as if waiting for him to offer up the answer. However, he did not. "This is Khai Khmun, one of the most worthless piles of sputum to ever wear the red robes of Thay. Khai is a sniveling sycophant. My only rivals are magicians of worth. He's also a _junior_ instructor at my mother's academy. What he's doing straying so far from his mentor's leash, I don't know..."

"All that's changing... Araman rewards his allies well. With Lienna dead I've earned a promotion," Khai explained with a grin and turned, gesturing behind him. A human skeleton – blackened and sprawled across the floor lie among ashes – what must have once been her clothing. "It's a shame the old hag didn't put up much of a fight. She destroyed herself in a blaze of fire... must've known she couldn't best me."

"I needed to _talk – to – Lienna_," Cal spat out each word, every syllable becoming darker as she spoke until they were very nearly a growl. Safiya glanced to her, surprised by the sudden vehemence. She was furious with Khai and disheartened – for a number of reasons – to see Lienna dead, but Cal seemed much more than that. She removed her greatsword from its holster, glaring down at the wizard. "You've made a _fatal_ mistake, Khai."

Khai turned to her, and the color – what little there was left within the plane of shadows – drained as his eyes widened.

"You... Araman _warned_ me of you! Safiya, why would you travel with this... _thing_?" he asked, glancing to her. There was a note of genuine fear in his voice – a note that Safiya savored. She didn't know what he was talking about, but was pleased for leverage in the encounter.

"Have we met?" Cal asked, cracking her neck and readying her sword. Khai swallowed nervously.

"I want no trouble from you – stand aside!" he cried, gesturing as if to somehow propel her out of sight and out of mind. Cal took a step froward instead and Khai lunged backwards. "My quarrel is with Safiya! I doubt she'll put up nearly as much of a fight as Lienna... or her mother."

"My... mother? Khai Khmun, you had best be mocking me... if you raised your hand against my mother, I will extract a thousand screams from your wretched hide!" Safiya shouted, following Cal's suite and brandishing her staff. Cal may have intimidated him and the other hounds of Araman, but Khai wasn't going to escape. Safiya would flay him for even suggesting that he had harmed her mother. Khai grinned up at her.

"Oh, she had no idea it was coming. She used every last cantrip she knew but... her loyal allies - her daughter, even - never arrived to save her."

"You enjoy giving others reasons to kill you, don't you?" Cal cut him off, and something in her voice suggested that she was overcome with anger – likely just as much as Safiya. But there was something distinctly different in it. Something icy. "Do you want to stop now, while you'll know it will be quick? Or would you prefer to secure yourself a slow, agonizing death? Safiya – which do you think we should give him?"

"I think you're onto something with that slow bit."

"Maybe I'll rip out his spine and beat him with it."

"And I'll be sure to castrate him first."

"W-wait!" Khai said, glancing between the girls. "I... you see - the coup was Araman's idea - he... he - I don't know _why_ Lienna was involved but after the headmistress, she was next and then Safiya and - !"

Safiya scowled at him, absolutely repulsed by his cowardice and his character in tandem. "And to think you once claimed to care for me..."

Khai steadied himself, regaining whatever balance he struggled to maintain. "Lienna was wise to destroy herself rather than face me. I'll let you both meditate on that – give you the option to kill yourselves – or one another – rather than have it be done by my hand. I will not be mercifu -,"

Cal's temper had finally met its end, and she interrupted him with an outraged cry before leaping from the stage, sword drawn to plunge into him. Safiya immediately began to call out her spells, bombarding the rival wizards with offensive after offensive as Cal wove around, sword calling up flurries of hay from the bales just as surely as it stole blood into the air. It was not uncommon for Red Wizards to turn against one another. Actually, it was far less common for them to work together and cooperate than it was for them to kill each other, almost at random. It was all a power play, a struggle against wit as much as it was a struggle for sheer survival. From an intellectual standpoint, you could be ruined just as easily as your throat could be slit in your sleep. Safiya had seen others challenge her mother in the past, and fail miserably – Nefris was something of a force to be reckoned with in her own right. The fact that multiple wizards had agreed to work together – all for selfish reason, but reason all the same – spoke much of Araman's influence. She had been expecting this, but the source was somewhat... unexpected.

"I always assumed Khai's ambition would get him killed... but I never thought it would be by my hand," Safiya mused as she collected herself, staring at his bloodied corpse as it lie on the floor. Cal had collapsed against one of the few intact bales of hay, her sword lying on the ground beside her. The wizard quickly stepped from the stage. "Healing isn't really my specialty, but I can offer some assistance – do you need it?"

But Cal shook her head. "I'm not hurt – not badly, anyways. Just tired."

"Tired? Well, that's not too surprising. You did just scatter about thirty pieces of wizard and demon across the room," Safiya remarked and sat beside her on the hay.

"I'm sorry. That was your fight. I just... couldn't stop myself," she said between heavy breaths, wiping sweat from her brow. "About... your mother..."

"I can only hope Khai was lying to unsettle me... I wish he was not granted the pleasure of seeing us so angry, but..."

"It's not like he'll live to tell the tale."

Safiya smiled, but it waned quickly. "I just... worry. I'm running out of trustworthy people in my life... if he was telling the truth I... I should never have left the Academy when I did. My mother, Nefris - she has the respect of the other wizards, but not their love..."

"Don't worry mistress, you still have me! I'm family. Sort of," Kaji chimed in, tugging affectionately at the sleeve of her dark robes. Safiya glanced down to him and smiled. There was something to be said about the only trustworthy people in ones life being created by ones own hand. Cal was staring at her, and eventually her normally stoic expression softened.

"I'm sorry," she said, followed by an uncomfortable silence. "If you need to return home, I understand."

It was a kind offer, one that Safiya hadn't expected. "Thank you... but I promised my mother I'd look after you. If those were her... her last orders – well, I'd like to honor them. Had the situation been reversed - had someone harmed me, her wrath would have been... merciless. I will grieve for my mother by finding Araman... and crushing him."

"Who is he?"

"Araman is a common enough name in Thay, but... there is an Araman at the Academy of Shapers and Binders," Safiya said, recounting the man. His betrayal had been unexpected, not because of any standing loyalties, but because he seemed so utterly inconsequential otherwise. "He's a senior instructor. Quiet, soft-spoken, and shockingly adept at magic. I've met him, but we've rarely traded words - he stays hidden in the library most of the time."

"And he lead this coup against your mother?"

"Hmmmm... a reclusive, yet polite old man who kept to himself at an academy full of ruthless, aggressive magicians..." Safiya thought aloud, and now it was a little suspicious. She had not thought much of the man, but she supposed the rumor to distrust the quiet ones held fast in any circumstance. "Yes, he sounds guilty enough. Had he been vocal about his hatred for my mother, she'd have anticipated it and stopped him long ago. At least Khai is dead, and Lienna avenged. I appreciate your assistance in killing that wretch."

"I could hardly help it," Cal reiterated, seeming to collect herself. "He destroyed valuable information... and what he said about your mother, well..."

Safiya nodded, beginning to place two and two together about the stranger. "So... you know nothing of swordplay – either because of your amnesia or because you received no formal training... you're nearly unstoppable in combat when you're enraged... and afterwards you're terribly fatigued."

Cal stared at her, nonplussed.

"Do you suppose you're a barbarian?"

"A barbarian?" Cal repeated, knitting her brow. "You mean like a berserker? Well, I don't know..."

"You don't quite fit the image, but then I suppose there have been stranger combinations. You're only wearing light armor, yet you wield a greatsword – from what I've studied, berserkers prefer heavy-handed weaponry but enter battle without fear of mortal wounds, and don't like to be weighed down by heavy armor," Safiya explained, gesturing to the girl's attire and weapon. "I've seen you struggle with that sword only while you're not fighting, and you seem to enter some sort of frenzy in battle. You said you couldn't help but attack Khai?"

"I was furious," Cal said. "Something just came over me and I couldn't stop it."

"It's certainly reminiscent," Safiya said before rising. "I suppose it doesn't really matter, but I was curious all the same. With Lienna dead, I think our best course of action would be to speak to Magda and the other actors – there is a chance she had confided in one of them."


	3. Gann

A/N: Stole a quote in here, somewhere. I can't remember who said it, but I think we all know it isn't mine.

Their search for the acting troupe had been in vain; Magda and the others must have wisely fled from the Veil after she and Cal had taken care of the brat onstage. The girls had barely exited the theatre when three bolts of light descended one by one from the sky. Cal recoiled in shock, and her hand – in spite of her fatigue – immediately went to the hilt of her sword. Safiya's own fell upon it, stopping her from making an otherwise deadly mistake.

"Keep your distance, witches. I've studied your laws, and we've broken none," Safiya said. The lights had dispersed, revealing three women garbed in colorful dresses and adorned with strange, feathered masks. They covered all but their eyes, noses and mouths, but that did nothing to mask their hostility.

"You know our laws, but I know you, child. You'll be better served by keeping silent," the middle and evidently eldest warned her in turn. Safiya withdrew slightly, heeding the thinly-veiled threat.

"Look, Sheva – the girl's companion! It's _that_ one that offends the land and draws an army to our gates!" one of them cried, pointing to Cal. The only discernible features were the long, dark hair and the pink hue of her dress. Cal narrowed her eyes immediately.

"Speak your name, foreigner," the eldest witch spoke to her, "and be warned that you address the Wychlaren."

"Be warned that you address one powerful enough to draw an army to your gates," she said in turn, and Safiya was both mystified and mortified by her gall. "I don't give my name to strangers who surround me in the street like a pack of thieves."

"Listen to this, sisters! How can any of you doubt the words of the bear god?" the dark-haired witch cried again. Safiya found her voice grating at best, and wished that she would remain silent. She had dreaded an encounter with the witches ever since learning of them and their kind, just as she had dreaded facing the land and the peasants and pirates. And Cal's temper – regardless of how amusing Safiya found it – was not going to do them any favors in such a dark little world.

"In this country, foreigner, it is death to speak so to a Witch... but you crossed spells with our mortal enemies this day, and drove them from our midst. For that, much may be forgiven," the eldest witch spoke, her tone wavering between being firm just as much as it hesitated. But it did little to appease Cal, who's expression merely darkened. After a brief pause, she scoffed and smirked, though the expression was still terribly cold. Safiya worried that she might fall into another rage if pressed enough.

"Sounds like I deserve a reward, not a scolding," she said. That cold, snide tone had returned.

"No. Not a foreigner. You fought for your life, not our law," the dark-haired witch spat at her.

"Is that a crime, too? Self-defense and wit? You must lead a very boring little... _town_, here," Cal glared at her, then returned her attention to the eldest. "That bear held me prisoner. I committed no more crime in escaping him than I did killing the wizards who were in the Veil."

The smallest of the trio, a chestnut-haired girl garbed in blue gave a little squeak. "Then Magda spoke true? She said there were Thayans, that they appeared from the very shadows - !"

"_Calm,_ Katya, you are a Witch now, not a farmgirl," the eldest witch glared at her, and Katya seemed to regain herself. She turned back to Cal. "You claim innocence, but the bear god has marched an army of spirits to our gate, and he roars for your blood. He claims that you have defiled his sacred den and loosed an evil upon the world."

"Well, he's completely full of shit then."

The dark-haired witch very nearly hissed at her. "The bear god does not _lie_! I can _smell_ the wrongness on you, foreigner, it hangs upon you like a corpse-shroud!"

"That's _actually_ a couple of days of tromping around in the mud and not being able to properly bathe," Cal snapped at her. "Though I guess I can't expect _peasants_ who worship _bears_ to know any difference."

Safiya chuckled and quickly covered her mouth, trying to suppress her amusement. All four of them marinaded in anger and disgust and their banter was unexpectedly hilarious to her. She chalked it up to her frayed nerves and swallowed any residual urges to laugh.

The eldest witch's eyes moved sharply from one girl to the next, her wrinkled mouth curving into a deep frown. "Make your peace with the bear god, foreigner. Only then will you be a friend to us."

"You claim that you have the right to kill a countryman for speaking back to you? You command that much respect? Then the three of you get off your lazy, leathery, wretched asses and defend this stinking town you claim to rule," Cal snarled at her. "You want to give me a death sentence? My comrade and I just cleared out a theatre filled with your mortal enemies. I dare you to try."

"It's that kind of talk that proves your guilt!" the dark-haired witch shouted at her. "You would dare to speak to us so, when we're left with the injustice of your arrival and yet we still try to help? You ungrateful, vile little - !"

"_Peace_, Kazimika," the eldest silenced her before glaring back at Cal. "She is right, foreigner. I know that you are looking for Magda, for one reason or another, and I have wisely decided to keep her and her band safe from you."

"_What_?" Cal sputtered.

"How do we know that you wouldn't have slain Lienna yourself? How do we know you won't do the same to Magda?" Kazimika snarled.

"As I told you, foreigner, make your peace with Lord Okku. Then and only then will we allow you to meet with Magda," the eldest said, and Safiya watched with a note of dread as furious color rose into Cal's face. "No Witch may stand against the spirits of the land... but I will honor the debt we owe you, foreigner, for defeating the Red Wizards. Go to our prison, on the north edge of town. Any convict who is willing to stand at your side will be granted a full pardon."

"How _generous_," Cal spat after a long pause of wrestling with her temper. "Fine. I will free your prisoners and I will kill the bear god for a _second_ time. And then I'll be expecting some answers."

"We will watch you from our high place, and we will receive you again when you return... if you live," the eldest's voice tapered off as the three witches returned to light, vanishing before them. A moment later, Cal spun around and nearly – and hopefully accidentally – cleaved Safiya's head off as she drew her greatsword and embedded it into the wooden door. The wizard had lunged out of the way, dumbfounded by the level of carelessness Cal displayed. Nearby peasants who had been watching quickly shut their doors and windows, drawing curtains or quickly returning about their business.

"How can they possibly be so disgusting?" Cal asked, pacing about the front of the theatre. The wood groaned as her sword slipped a couple of inches, but otherwise held its angle. Her hands clasped and unclasped, balling in and out of fists. "How can their peasants be content to be ruled by a trio of haughty bitches like them? Who cares if they can use magic if its an entire town against three old women? Pathetic!"

"Yes... their customs are quite odd to foreigners of Rashemen... and myself," Safiya said, hoping something to fill the silence might re-assure her and deplete her rage. "Unfortunately, Magda is our best lead for an answer..."

"I know," Cal sighed, sitting down on the steps. She put her face in her hands, balancing her elbows on her knees. The wood creaked and a moment later her sword clattered noisily to the floor. "Once we free Magda, I'll stick my sword right between the eyes of that Kazimika's mask."

"Perhaps we should focus on rallying a couple of allies before we plan a coup against Mulsantir's leaders," Safiya said, hesitantly – and awkwardly – placing her hand on Cal's shoulder. The barbarian glanced up, nonplussed. "Surely we'll find someone who will stand with us to secure his or her freedom from this wretched place."

"We couldn't help but overhear," a man interrupted them, and Safiya looked up to see two people approaching them – donned in full armor and laden of weaponry, her hopes soared before quickly pausing at the sight of their wings. They were half-celestials, but the wizard couldn't fathom why they were in Rashemen. "An army of angry spirits awaits you at the gates of Mulsantir. You will perhaps require more assistance against such a host. I am Efrem the Stag – and this is my sister, Susah the Crow."

"My bow and my brother's sword will aid you, should you agree to first help us find our lost sister, Kaelyn the Dove," the black-winged woman finished. Cal stared at them, clearly taken aback.

"Wh-where is your sister?" she inquired, clearly overwhelmed.

"Kaelyn came here seeking the abandoned stronghold of Myrkul, the Death God's Vault, which is in Shadow Mulsantir," Susah informed.

"Why can't you two find her?" Safiya asked, wishing to nip the errand boy routine in the bud before it developed into a habit. Surely they could find those with less pressing concerns to do their dirty work for them.

"Entering Myrkul's sanctum would be a violation of our faith to Kelemvor," Efrem said.

"Would Kaelyn be violating her faith by entering Myrkul's vault, then?" Safiya asked.

"Kaelyn has... abandoned her faith in Kelemvor. For this she was exiled from our grandfather's court. She now follows Ilmater, god of martyrs," he explained and Cal's eyes lit up. "We hope to find our sister and convince her not to become a martyr herself..."

"Why did she turn to Ilmater?" she asked and rose, somehow enraptured now. Safiya almost groaned; she had little patience for people of faith and did not know what she would do if Cal began to sing Ilmater's praises – let alone if she did it in tandem with a half-celestial.

"That is an excellent question, I have a theory..."

"Sister! Let us not entertain these "theories." If you want the answers, seek out Kaelyn and ask her yourself," Efrem turned his gaze upon Cal once again, who jumped slightly.

"I'll find her," she settled.

"Thank you. We will be very grateful once we lay eyes on our beloved sister," Susah smiled at her.

"Go on with care. Kelemvor's blessing to you," Efrem nodded to her, and the siblings went on their way. Cal watched them go and confirmed her fears a moment later as she returned her sword to its holster.

"I want to know more about Ilmater."

"Did you worship him?" Safiya asked as the two girls began to make their way the muddied road leading through town. The rain had become a fine mist, gradually dispersing as the mild warmth of the sinking sun split the sky. It cast an ethereal glow over their surroundings, the fog a blooming orange as the sky lingered with a muted crimson and indigo. Cal shrugged.

"I don't know. He said the name and I had a rush of deja vu. It feels... right?" she tried for words, but ultimately lapsed. Safiya frowned, but was at least grateful that her ally was taking a scientific approach to a spiritual.

"Ilmater is the god of martyrs and suffering. He brings solace to those in pain - or to those who feel... incomplete."

"White hands bound by red rope?" Cal asked, frowning.

"One of his symbols."

"I've heard of him. I studied him. I can't remember where or why, though," she said. "I guess it doesn't matter, but hearing his name triggered something."

"Triggered what?" Safiya asked. They stood at the threshold to the prison, and the empty gallows swung gently in the breeze.

"Hope," Cal said before pushing the door open, leaving Safiya with her curiosity. The girls stepped into a dim room lit only by a few candles. Two jail cells sat side by side and beside those, an alcove where an old witch dressed in white sat.

"As you have disturbed the spirits, you also disturb _me,_" she growled, turning to rise and meet them. "For what reason are you here?"

"I guess you weren't aware that there's an army at your gates."

"Of course I am aware! You're – oh, _you're_ that one, aren't you? The cause of all of this? I should hang you myself!" the old witch shouted and Cal folded her arms.

"You might break a hip in the process."

"Have you only come to incense me? Get out, get out if you have no business here!"

"But we do," Safiya interrupted, meeting Cal's side. "Your sisters promised us the freedom of any prisoner who will stand with us to face Okku's army."

"Help? From this lot? Trust in their "help" and you'll find yourself alone when trouble comes," the witch was incredulous, though she seemed to resign herself. "But if you wish to persist in this foolishness, you may speak with the prisoners. Be warned: two you need not fear, but as for the third... _guard_ your thoughts."

With that she stepped back, allowing Cal and Safiya entrance. The two girls exchanged glances and went. The first cell towered beside the old woman, holding in its midst a gigantic mass of muscle with blue-gray skin. Cal approached the bars and the creature within turned slowly, his face a hideous assortment of jutting fang, brow and jaw. He stared at her with sunken eyes.

"You want something from me?" he rumbled thickly.

"I need warriors to fight the army at the gates. You'll be granted a full pardon if you join me."

"I have no interest in your offer. I am done with killing," he replied, clearly catching her off-guard. Cal's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are you?" she asked without an ounce of tact. Before the creature could respond, a treble pitch from the other cell spoke up.

"He's hagspawn – mother was a hag, father was some unlucky fellow."

"Quiet, small one! I can speak my own words," the apparent hagspawn growled to the cell beside his. Safiya stepped over to the cell, looking for whomever was inside. "He does speak true. Because of my heritage, I am an outcast."

"If you're going to ask me what you asked Groznek, I've got the same answer: no," the voice piped up. Inside was a halfling, eying her dubiously. Safiya glanced back to Cal, who promptly returned her attention to Groznek.

"Is that why you're in here? Because of what you are?" she asked, but the hagspawn slowly shook his head, his eyes never straying from her face.

"No. There were three who taunted me into a rage. My blade was first to leave its sheath, so here I wait."

"Wait for what?"

"His hanging, what else? Or they might toss him off a cliff. I'm not sure how it works," the halfling said.

"Enough, small one! Do not speak my words for me!" the hagspawn shouted into the nearby cell before turning slowly back to Cal. Safiya was made uneasy by the situation; there were only three prisoners and thus far two had denied them. Empirical evidence was enough to tell her they would not be so lucky with the third, unless they created a better bargaining method. But Cal seemed more interested in discussing Groznek's fate than inspecting what was behind door number three. "I am trapped in this existence as an outcast through no fault of my own. I will _gladly _accept my fate since it will bring me the peace which has eluded me."

They stared at each other for a long pause before the hagspawn backed away and turned. "Go now. I do not wish to speak to you any longer."

"Wait - !" Cal said, and Safiya was surprised to hear her voice break. She rushed to the door of his cell, grabbing the bars, but Groznek had already turned his back to her. He had become only a shape within shadow.

"Leave me to my fate," his voice rolled out from the cell, but Cal didn't release the bars. Instead she stood, staring into the darkness, and grimaced slightly. Tears welled up in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks, though eventually she backed away from the door without another word. Safiya was shocked. Yes, the hagspawn's story was terribly bleak and depressing, but he was only a stranger to them and nothing more. Cal glanced around the cells, noted the small one shaking his head, 'no,' and turned to the witch.

"And the third?" she asked angrily, dispelling the pleased look upon her wrinkled face.

"I leave you with a final warning, the wretch inside this room is _not_ to be trusted. Heed his words at your own discretion," the old woman said and gestured to the door near the halfling's cell.

"And you expect me to trade words through a fucking door?" Cal snarled. Any humor or sarcasm left in her had drained completely. The old witch shot her a look.

"If you value your mind, you will!"

"_Open the door_!" Cal, out of patience, very nearly roared and Safiya wondered if the day would ever end.

"Do not even begin to think that you can command me, young woman!"

"I'll use _you_ to break it down!"

"How _dare_ you threaten me!"

"Mistress," Kaji said, and Safiya glanced his way. The little homunculus hovered at the door's handle, having just finished picking the lock with one of his claws. It was ajar.

x x x

Gann could not remember a time when there had been such excitement among the spirits and peasants alike. Not even celebratory festivals or harvests riled them to such an extent, and perhaps their fury was something to do with that. But he had not felt such a terrible force in many years – if ever.

"Shaman," a long-known acquaintance had come to him during the early hours of the evening of the prior night. The spirit of wolf he seldom interacted with, as the creature was pointedly disinterested in him – save for when it needed something. Or had some obscure bit of gossip to barter. Gann usually cared very little for gossip, especially when it concerned the living, but being trapped in a cell with nothing but the rage and rumor on the wind to entertain him left him starving for information. "I trust you're aware of the storm that comes."

"As a hound might sense it – or any non-blind, deaf or dumb creature can see the clouds and hear the thunder," Gann returned, peering up at the face that slipped through the tiny, rectangle window at the ceiling of his cell. "Care to enlighten me? I hear the spirits crying for vengeance, but their rage and confusion makes them impossible to understand."

"A living creature escaped from Old Father Bear's barrow," the wolf said, "a prisoner, a monster. It was meant to be kept there, but a Thayan stole it away. They vanquished the king, and killed Faithful Nakata before sneaking into Mulsantir."

That certainly explained a lot, though it also beckoned a number of new confusions. A living prisoner monster, stolen from the bear god's barrow by a Thayan? Who dispersed a shade of the king himself in their escape? Gann decided that this was certainly the most juicy bit of information the wolf had ever dangled before him, though he wondered what the cost was – and why it had even bothered to tell him.

"Would you like to redeem yourself?" the wolf asked. It was an undisguised question, conforming to the creature's nature. Wolves, Gann had found, were sober and honorable creatures, just one temperament away from many of the bears. Gann didn't much appreciate it – neither the question nor the sentiment, and smirked at the spirit before turning away.

"Redemption? In what sense? Are you asking if I would like to appease Okku, or martyr myself? Or is it both?" he tapped his chin, feigning contemplation. "So many double words and standards in your ancient hierarchy, spirit. You'll forgive a mere dreamer for needing a bit of clarification."

"You know what I ask, Shaman. I ask that you would stand with us against this creature, as once again an ally to the spirits. You would be freed from this cage, if you pledged your loyalty to the kingdom's plight."

"So, I will be trading one cage for another?" Gann asked. Spirits often requested his aid with their worries or goals, and he often supplied it for a reasonable price – information, food, shelter, whatever he may need at the time. But the improvised kingdom was something he had made a point to stray from, after it had become clear that the two could not peacefully coincide. "How convenient it is that you would accept me as an ally only when you need something from me."

The wolf opened its mouth – something he'd read as a grin – before promptly shutting it and tilting its head. "I am playing by your rules, Shaman. I assumed you might appreciate the sentiment, but it is, I suppose, lost in your hypocrisy."

Gann laughed. "And the sentiment is reflected much in yourself, friend. You're asking if I will trade my life for my freedom? I think not. Your idea of redemption is not quite the same that I picture."

"Are you capable of only serving your own needs? Does your ego still need to be fed?"

"I think we are done here, spirit. At least in this cage, I am free to pursue my own interests. And I am uninterested in being a soldier."

"May that pride keep you warm and safe when we tear down these walls, Shaman."

He probably should have expected the drama to increase within the following day, but he had occupied himself by altering the runes the old prison matron had drawn around his cell, being sure to alter them just enough to keep the spirits at bay. The old women had a terrible hand for drawing them in the first place; shaky and poorly-crafted, they would have kept him trapped just as well as a rotten wall might hold the weight of a storm. But with his skill, they would – if not stop – then at least slow anything that might try to enter his cell rather than dispel his influence from spreading.

Once he had finished, he had settled for the night, keeping to the corner to avoid the rain that washed in through the small window and listening in the dreaming plane. The spirits had stopped at the gates, waiting and discussing and arguing different strategies. Many of them seemed to want to tear through the city, destroying anything in their path that might have been the prisoner they loathed so terribly, while others – more logical, fresher deceased than the ancients were more diplomatic. They wanted to wait to allow the town to regurgitate this foreigner – or have them turn themselves in, without causing more bloodshed than what was already necessary.

He could only listen for so long before growing bored – if not for a strange influence he felt growing near. Or, rather, a lack of an influence may have been a better term, as for what rivaled the power and energy of the spirits at the gate was a deep void. It was a cold and uncomfortable tear in the energy of Mulsantir – which did not have the most consistent aura to it in the first place. But this was darker. This, he felt, was an ancient hunger, a nothingness that had come from who-knew-where to do who-knew-what. It was directionless and empty – and it was getting closer. It made him nervous.

The real commotion started not long after he felt the void descend. Someone had entered the prison and was speaking to the matron – well, not so much speaking as they were shouting. Rather, the old woman was shouting. The other two voices were fairly soft spoken, so much that he could hardly hear them. His interest piqued and he wondered what was going on. He heard the old matron threaten to hang the visitor, and then demand them to leave. An enemy to the witches had come calling, and he shut his eyes, trying to pinpoint the different energies he felt. One, he noted with pause, was the void. And the other was... strange. Normally his thoughts might have been more eloquent on the matter, but strange was the only way he could sum up the foreign presence. It was split, yet whole – and it confused him.

He heard them speaking to one of the prisoners – the hagspawn. Now they were near enough for him to gauge the depths of their voices, though he heard only one. It was female, and quite young by the sound of it. She was recruiting warriors.

Suddenly, it made sense. No local would raise a hand against the spirits, unless they had no choice. This girl, he doubted, was a local – the way she spoke to the witch made that clear as day. Was she the one the spirits were waging war against?

The girl had started shouting at the prison matron to open the door. They traded incensed threats, much to Gann's baffled delight – when he noticed the handle of the cell's door turning. It stopped suddenly and silently opened, revealing an oddly-shaped, little brown face. Two colorless eyes blinked at him before it grinned and turned to tug on a red sleeve... and the door opened and there was a horrified gasp from the prison matron.

"Stow that abomination! You have just freed a prisoner!"

"Stow your miserable tongue, all we did was open a bleeding door!" the young voice shouted back. Gann peered up curiously as his door opened, and a Rashemi peasant stood in the threshold. He was taken aback by her beauty – most of the Rashemen woman who reached adulthood did so worse for the wear, wrinkled and pale from a life of cold and difficult work, but this woman was an exotic blend of tattoo and sun-kissed skin. Her large, almond eyes held a fierce intelligence unlike any other he had encountered in the waking world.

"It is an act of treason to disobey the word of a witch!"

"Oh no! You mean treason like, everything I've done leading up to this? What ever shall I do!" the voice spat before suddenly the door slammed back on its hinges and cracked against the wall. The peasant woman jumped back slightly, and the voice had revealed itself to be... nothing like he had pictured. Well, it wasn't as though Gann had a clear image to match the voice, but the girl standing before him didn't exactly summon up imagery of rebellion and viciousness. She was nearly a head shorter than her tattooed companion and was paler than even the Rashemi locals – from he could tell of her beneath her green hood, anyways. And... she was blind. Or so he had thought until she pointed at him. Gann wondered if his eyes were merely playing tricks, or if _her_ eyes were slightly glowing in the shadow of her hood.

"You, prisoner," she snapped, "do you want to get out of this miserable sty?"

What a loaded question, that one. He had a feeling this would be a less than pleasant encounter. But his arsenal of wit had failed him. His only visitors had been spirits, and usually they did not meet to shout questions at him. He'd rather be careful in this verbal duel with a temperamental void and her exotic companion, but appeasing the demands of others wasn't on his agenda. He had already denied one who might send him to his death in exchange for his freedom and wasn't about to jump onto the opposing side's sinking ship.

"I think you'll find anyone who considers themselves a benefactor to be another sort of jailer," Gann spoke evenly, studying the stranger. He noted the gigantic sword strapped to her back, and the leather armor. A peasant and a warrior, rallying soldiers. He supposed that peasant wasn't quite a peasant, either. A very strange trio indeed. But Gann wanted no part of it, no matter how bored he was. "Whatever they are, go offer your benedictions elsewhere."

The stranger scowled at him before turning, about to take off – likely to brawl with the old matron – when the not-quite-a-peasant's attention snagged in his room. She stepped inside, scrutinizing one of the walls... or more accurately, something on it.

"What are these wards around your prison?" she asked, using her staff to casually gesture to the runes at the base of the four walls. Gann felt himself raising an eyebrow – he had not expected either of them to take any notice – but he quickly regained control of himself and glanced to where she had gestured. He tilted his head, feigning bemusement before glancing back to her and shrugging.

"Oh, those?" he asked. "I hadn't noticed. Did some child come by with a handful of chalk and scrawl them on the walls?"

"Possibly, considering the skill," the woman continued, glancing back to him. "I thought they may have simply been reversals of binding wards, but they've been altered."

"Hmm. A mystery indeed. Who do you suspect of altering them? Not me, I hope. I have an alibi," Gann waved her off, though had the impression that regardless of any suspicion, it was of no consequence. The most he'd get was a verbal thrashing from the matron – which he was not opposed. He would win, and enjoy the show in the meantime. But he assumed her aggression would be trained moreso on a certain foreigner before himself.

The robed woman rose an eyebrow as she stared at him. "If you did this, you are extremely skilled with runes and wards."

Impressed, Gann grinned. He supposed there was nothing wrong with entertaining a worthwhile audience for a short time. It may be their last night among the living, afterall. "Ah, the sweet arrows of flattery have found their target. You may actually be worth speaking to for a time. But I have forgotten what precisely it is that you _want._ I am _not_ a reader-of-minds, you know, so out with it."

The warrior girl had paused at the door and glanced to her companion. They shared a discreet look and the girl entered his cell. She glanced over her shoulder at the witch lingering in the background, hooked her foot around the door and kicked it shut before turning back to Gann.

"What have you been jailed for?" she asked, instead.

"_My_ crime?" Gann paused, taken somewhat aback. But then, the old matron did make something of a fuss over his imprisonment. He sighed, feigning remorse. "It is a serious one. You see, I am too handsome to look upon."

The girl didn't have much of a reaction, but her companion made a point to roll her eyes. Gann smirked, and continued. "It would not be the first time I have had to place myself behind bars to keep admirers at bay. If _that's_ why you're here, you'll have to wait in line like the rest of them."

Finally, the girl glared at him. "I'll restrain myself. _Somehow_."

"Good. I would not want you to embarrass yourself. I may be a "criminal," but I demand that visitors observe a certain decorum in my presence – otherwise _chaos_ ensues," he continued, delighting as he watched angry color fill the girl's face. "But come now, this banter is delightful but something else must have brought you here other than the chance to converse with me."

"My ally and I are meeting the bear god and his army tomorrow. I intend on killing him for a second and hopefully _final_ time," she said, serious as the grave as she stared down at him. Gann tilted his head as he listened, bemused by the entire situation. So, she was the monster the spirits wanted dead. He knew he was not going to receive the full story from either side, and so he listened more carefully to everything the girl didn't say. Her name, for one. "The witches will grant a full pardon if you stand with us."

"That is because no Rashemi will stand against the spirits, and the witches are well-aware of this," Gann said, but he had a feeling the girls already knew – or at least suspected as much. If one did not have allegiance to the spirits, he would at least need be suicidal to stand against them. "You have come to the wrong cell - I am neither foolhardy nor desperate enough to fight barbarians or Thayans. Go find a poorhouse and scatter a few coppers - _that_ might yield better results."

That seemed to incense the girl. Quicker than he had expected, she met the distance and leaned over him, her palms on the wall he sat against. Though he showed no outward reaction, inside he had to consciously stop himself from becoming hostile on reflex. He had been stripped of his artillery, but this girl was not the only warrior in this cell. She met his stare, narrowed her eyes and hissed. "You prefer a cage?"

Gann, cold in his anger, smirked and shoved himself up from the ground, forcing the girl to back off. He neared her, though she stood her ground, staring angrily up at him. "_No one_ cages me against my will – I am sheltering here by _choice_, stranger. That braying legion at the gates will be hard-pressed to reach here."

"Those who sacrifice liberty for safety deserve _neither_."

"Is liberty what you offer? It sounded to me that you're merely looking for foolhardy suicides," Gann retorted, likely just as angry as she. "That's no "ordinary," band of spirits out there – that's a hornet's nest of beasts. They're screaming so loudly for blood I can hear it in my dreams... and I do not think I am wrong in suspecting that the blood they seek is yours. Graverobber, are you? Tsk, tsk. One should leave sacred barrows of the ancient bear god alone, lest he come for you in his garishly-colored furry rage."

They glared at each other for a moment longer before the girl's anger seemed to drop, all at once and she blinked in surprise – moments before she smiled. She promptly covered her mouth with a gloved hand, but had uttered something of a half-suppressed laugh. Bemused, Gann felt his own anger draining; he had not expected to amuse her. Clearly, she hadn't expected to be amused, as he saw her eyes dart off to the side as her face flushed with embarrassment. She quickly scowled and turned, stalking away from him as he grinned.

"Look, I didn't rob his grave. I don't even know how I got there. But he was going to _kill_ me to make sure I didn't escape. If Safiya hadn't helped me, I'd be down there still," the girl explained, pacing and talking with her hands, nearly feverish in her exasperation. "_He's_ challenging me and everyone's acting like I'm some... some kind of _monster_ when I haven't even _done_ anything. If you're not interested in helping me out, then _fine_, but for the love of the gods, don't give me anymore reason to let this miserable town _burn_."

"Why not?"

"Why not what?" the girl asked after a pause, glancing back to him.

"Why not let it burn? You're clearly not a local, and you don't seem to agree with the... customs," Gann observed, only half-delicately. The girl only blinked at him.

"I don't have a choice. The witches imprisoned someone I need to talk to." Her companion met her palm with her face.

"And you think killing Okku will free this prisoner?" The logic wasn't very clear. The girl sighed loudly.

"It's a long story, okay?" she said, and beat, she pulled her drying hood down. Her hair was a pale, short mess, cut into asymmetrical tatters as if she'd lost a battle with a torch. And on further inspection, he noted that both girls were covered in burns. Not terrible ones, but their clothing was singed and dark here and there with blood. There was a story somewhere here – a very strange and potentially fascinating story. He supposed he might learn a part of it from the spirits, and a part of it from the girl – but as he speculated earlier, there would never be quite a whole. But that didn't quite dissuade him. Afterall, he had been paying attention to what hadn't been said. The girls had only recently arrived, had crossed swords with some sort of threat (or had that been Okku's handiwork?), offended the witches on multiple accounts and now resigned the evening to rallying up a defense against an army.

He wondered where they came from.

"Well, if I may say, you are rather brave to marshal an army to meet them," Gann rubbed his chin. Under less extreme circumstances he might have been offended by her apparent disinterest in him as anything more than a soldier, but rarely did the cerebral concern itself with two mysterious women. Nor did it tie itself together so neatly whilst still demanding answers, one riddle twisting into another and leaving him hungry for more. "So entertain me then, brave one. Why would one such as I follow you into such a hopeless battle?"

The girl slowly turned to him. The fact that it was a reasonable opportunity to convince him did not seem to have been lost on her. She stared at him for a pause before answering.

"It would be more exciting than prison."

And people accused _him_ of being a reader of minds. But he wasn't ready to let go quite yet.

"Oh indeed? And how is it that you can promise such things?" he asked with a lingering smile, waiting to be underwhelmed.

"I promise nothing," the girl said, the gravity returning in the stead of her fluster. Gann hadn't been expecting brutal honesty, and stalled. She continued in the pause, "I offer you a chance, and nothing more."

Much more honest than the spirit had been. Gann was not one to pick sides – namely because he had never found a side worth standing on that wasn't entirely his own – but also because each had their own agenda. They could deny it all they like, but Gann knew the selfishness of a living heart, and the hypocrisy of a dead mind. This girl, at least, didn't deny anything; she had her own agenda and was upfront about it, though seemed to know as little about her involvement with Okku as he did. Gann was a Spirit Shaman, and had only ever named allegiance to the spirits – some temporary, some long-standing allies, but he had never stood for the cause of the living.

And yet... a terrible ennui had been encroaching upon him for the past several years – maybe even for as long as he could remember. And... of course, he valued his freedom. It had never been his intent to remain imprisoned, but he had been at something of a loss of how to escape reasonably. And finally... he was not particularly opposed to meeting Okku in battle. Gann had never met with the spirit, but he had heard enough stories of him to last a lifetime and longer. He could admit to being a little curious to know the fabled 'king' of the spirits... and letting the spirits know exactly his worth as an enemy, should they continue to forsake him.

Gann grinned, and chuckled. ""An excellent rebuttal."

The girl's eyes widened slightly.

"I think this bodes well for our travels."

"You mean?" she asked, the faint mark of hopefulness in her voice.

"I admit - both your presence and your request intrigue me. Slightly. But that's a slight more than most," Gann grinned. The girl squinted slightly, as if she was not quite sure what to make of the sentiment.

"I suppose I'll take that as a _slight_ compliment," she finally said. "Assuming that means that you're intrigued enough to stand with us tomorrow."

"Indeed, you have a willing soldier at your side. Shall we be off?" he nodded as the quiet woman – Safiya – opened the door. "And, please, let us visit the witch warden on our way out, so I can pay my respects to her gentle, loving soul."

The old witch met them with a scowl, taking a few steps back as the mismatched trio made their way across the room. Gann couldn't deny the surge of just pleasure he felt upon reflecting that he was walking out a free – well, somewhat free – man, and there was nothing the old bat could do to stop him. The girl seemed to share that sentiment and tilted her head back, smiling as they neared.

"Ah, at last my eyes fall upon your beauty again, my matron-of-the-cell," Gann said, tuning his voice to the most charming degree possible.

"This one is cursed for taking you, spawn of hags," she said, pointing to the smug girl before gesturing back to him. "I shall be glad to be rid of you. Nothing but trouble for me, for this city, you are."

"_Shall_ you be glad to be rid of me, beautiful matron? Do not think I did not see the longing eyes you cast at me as you drew your runed circles on the floor of my cell."

"What lies are these? Eyes of shame are the only eyes I have for you! Shame!" she snarled at him, quickly working herself into a frenzy.

"Now, now – there is no need to mask the feelings I stir in you, and your age makes you only _seem_ wrinkled like a prunefruit. I see what dances in your thoughts as you dream the slow hours here away in this prison. In the golden woods of Urling, you once sang for an hour a hymn to the sun and dreamed that it was a shield carried by a warrior who watched over you. And such _passion_ in that song. Why, it gives you strength even now," as he finished, the old woman's wrinkled face had turned a deep purple beneath her mask.

"You are a dangerous creature, dreamwalker. The tales of you all speak such, and many are those you wound with your arrowflight of words and humor," the witch growled, withdrawing slightly. "Do not think us deaf to those who suffer because of your careless footsteps in their thoughts and dreams. Get hence from my thoughts, I warn you!"

"Dreamwalker? Is she mad?" the girl asked him suddenly, raising an eyebrow. Gann smirked.

"She speaks truly. I am that which all farmers with ripe daughters fear – the masked brigand who dances in the fires of their sweet children's minds and leaves footsteps that no wind nor time can erase..." he said, adding certain theatrics here and there to carry the image. Gann had long-since fancied himself a figment of the dreaming mind, an outcast to the waking world. Why not exacerbate the rumor and whimsy of the Rashemi legend? Gannayev-Of-Dreams was whomever he wished to be – and often times, he found, he was exactly what they wanted. He was a self-fulfilling prophecy and the influence he had commanded as such was profound, and sometimes terrible. There was a deep fear he inspired in others, just as he inspired... less cerebral passions. He turned his attention back upon the old witch. "... and old mother, do not think your mind has not laid down paths for me to stroll. _Such_ thoughts in a woman your age – it would put even a farmer's fieryloined daughter to shame."

"You are a thief, a twister of words! Go meet the spirit army, then, but you will not have my blessing upon you, now or ever!" the old woman cried out.

"No kiss for you, then."

And as they took their leave, the nameless girl burst into laughter.


	4. Kaelyn

"So, stranger," Safiya had begun the conversation as the three of them slipped into the corner of a dock inn, quaintly named, 'The Sloop.' Gann had visited it briefly before... relocating and had lead the girls with a premise of, 'watered-down ale and something just above prison staples,' assuming – correctly – that they'd pay for him. The warrior girl, who's name he had learned was 'Cal,' had carelessly placed her blade atop the table among their dishes and was staring at her reflection. As if suddenly his presence had lost all of its charm with its novelty. "Do you have a name?"

"I have several, though they all vary by purpose," Gann answered, looking away from Cal. He was disappointed by her unabashed lack of interest, though he knew that, in due time, he would reclaim it. Safiya merely rose an eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation. "My collar seems to change at every whim of those who meet me. To some, I am Gannayev-Of-Dreams – others, Gannayev. Or simply, Gann."

"Gann is... _suiting_, I think," Safiya replied delicately. "What is it that you do, exactly?"

"'_Do_?' My, what a terribly ambiguous question. You'll find that I 'do,' a great many things – and quite well, might I add."

Safiya didn't look impressed. Cal didn't even look up.

"If you're asking for some sort of profession, I doubt you will be familiar with my... 'trade.' I am a spirit shaman," Gann said, beginning to doubt his earlier judgment in joining the party. The girls had not been too impressive in his cell, but they had also been more interesting than fixing the runes on the walls – and listening to the braying legion of spirits. They had added a certain charm that Gann should have known to be entirely superficial and circumstantial. Finally, he noticed that Cal had pried her attention away from her reflection long enough to stare at him. "If questions you have, then answers I shall provide."

"Tell us a little about yourself," she said and went right back to staring at herself. This girl was the seminal example of a narcissist!

"A little?" Gann parroted, mock injury in his tone. "There is so _much_to tell – and to think you'd only want the smallest part. I am insulted."

"Then tell us a lot," Cal replied flatly, finally returning her sword to its holster. Gann couldn't understand why she had been so concerned in the first place; it wasn't as though she was much to look at. Tattered hair, a pale complexion and a weak constitution – the only thing Gann found to be of even slight interest about her appearance were her strange, and slightly unsettling, eyes. But so long as they weren't trained on him, it made little difference.

"What, do you think I am some long-winded braggart? My, your charm spells seem to be failing one by one," Gann sighed and noted Safiya rolling her eyes. Cal's stare darkened.

"If you're looking for magical prowess to loosen your tongue, I may have a suitable remedy," Safiya said, flexing her long, delicate fingers. She and Cal shared a decidedly wicked little look and Gann frowned. Was this woman admitting to being a sorceress of some kind? And _threatening_him in the process?

"If what's currently loosening your tongue is the ale, we'll stop throwing our coin at you," Cal said, reaching for the mug he had been drinking from. Gann moved it out of her grasp and swiftly downed the rest of it in one sitting.

"You'll find that there isn't a quantity of potion large enough – nor potent enough – to loosen my tongue in such a careless manner," Gann smirked as Cal and Safiya exchanged dubious glances. "And it certainly wouldn't be found under this establishment. You needn't buy my history, however – if you are that fascinated by me, I would never selfishly horde such an exhilarating tale. I am he who walks in the dreams of the people of Rashemen, especially in the passionate dreams of farmers' daughters. I make deals with spirits, speak with the mountains and forests and tell tales of old that bubble up from the brooks and streams of this land."

"Uh... huh," Cal said, blinking at him.

"I see you are speechless – rather, I terribly hope that I have rendered such a reaction. For if that is the extent of your vernacular, I am afraid I may have to take my leave and return to conversing with the prison walls." He was determined to get a reaction out of her.

"I'm trying to understand how someone can swallow such shit," she returned, surprising him – not only with her tactless cursing, but by the heartless sentiment as well. "Let alone expect anyone else to."

Gann was scandalized. He had not _lied_, at least not in any outstanding or blatant manner. "Ah, I see the length of your imagination matches your eloquence and wit. Whether you believe me or not, you have asked what a spirit shaman does, and I have supplied you with an answer. But it is a pointless matter; you shall see for yourself in the upcoming battle."

"Hopefully," she said. Gann was unsure of what to do or say; he had never encountered someone so outright disinterested in him before. The fact that she had bartered and bantered and begged her way into buying his blade – and possibly his life – and then abandoning even a feigned interested had floored him. Gann was not one to react to 'feelings,' or worry about offense – but this girl... he grasped for an apt descriptor of the passion she invoked in him.

"Well then, my markedly supercilious 'ally...' Perhaps you will condescend long enough to trade me an equal portion of an introduction," Gann said, still trying to pinpoint the exact location of the bruise. The girl slowly rose an eyebrow as he spoke, but Safiya spoke first.

"Our names are all you might get from us at present time, Gann. You may begin to ask to be paid upfront for your efforts," she smiled. "What I can tell you is that it really is no concern of yours, nor Rashemen's. If you must know, the two of us are indeed foreigners. As foreigners, Rashemi customs do not exactly agree with us."

"Ah, well, if it were not _obvious, _I myself am neither bound by law nor custom of this land. Use an elementary cognitive approach, here; you have just fished me out of a prison. It is not only you who cares little for the ways and orderings of the superstitious," Gann replied, his anger seeping into his tone. He narrowed his eyes at the woman.

"Well, I will only speak for myself. If Cal wishes to impart anything about herself to you, that is at her own discretion," Safiya said after a moment's hesitation. Gann glanced to her.

"Have you never met with the concept of equality?"

"If you want equality, then I only owe you a romanticized dream of what I wish I was," she said flatly and Gann felt the backlash like a blow to the middle. She had taken his melodramatic sentiments of identity and ran with it, though unlike others who mistakenly believed him to be serious about his own sense of worth, she met him with disdain rather than approval. But something about her judgment gave him pause. He'd been reciting different renditions of the same introduction for so long, that he had begun to lose sight of the original version – that is to say, the unaltered. This girl, whoever she was, seemed to realize that his smooth charm was an additional effort rather than a natural grace.

In the silence, she frowned slightly – and if Gann believed it to be possible, seemed to show some hint of remorse. "I don't have an introduction for myself. I don't remember anything about my past or who I am. It's all a blur before Safiya fished me out of Okku's barrow."

Gann nearly laughed aloud; such a hypocrite! For her to judge him on dishonesty, she had some nerve trying to pass with such a shaky, weak excuse. "It seems that I was not wrong in my earlier assessment of your imagination – or lack thereof."

Cal scowled at him. "I'm not lying."

"And I'm not a shaman."

"Well, then what in the nine hells are you?"

"Certainly not sarcastic."

"Oi!" a barmaid with a seemingly dark temperament snapped at them. "Don't make trouble, or else!"

Gann couldn't care less about the repercussions that 'else,' ensured, but he found himself exhausted by the girl's presence. If the strange void of her aura hadn't been enough to drain him, her personality had done the rest. He rose and promptly left them with a curt tip of his head, seeking out one of the two rooms they had rented on the second floor. The feeling was obvious, now. She _pissed him off_.

xxx

The rain had returned with the night; it was mild and summoned up thick and putrid fog from the docks that thinned the higher into town Cal walked. Moonlight wove in and out betwixt the heavy clouds in the sky and lanterns smeared their color against the rolling fog like stains. She paced through the mud, angry and bitter and nearly wishing to meet a spirit to do battle with it. She wanted to pick a fight, but not with him – oh, no – they were allies. She had begun to wonder if she had made a mistake. No, no, she _knew_ she had made a mistake and that knowledge incensed her like no other. She had lowered herself to request his assistance – and then even did him the favor of freeing him from that witch's prison – and his gratitude had a very strange way of taking shape. He was sarcastic and narcissistic and obnoxious and utterly oblivious to anything that did not concern himself. That shaman, that Gann – whatever, whoever he was, he was on her last nerve and she had half a mind to toss him back at the old matron.

And with that in mind, it with only a slight margin of surprise that she found herself at the prison's entrance. Cal stalled, listening to the rainfall around her, staring at the cold and hapless walls. Her eyes moved to the gallows and images of the hagspawn came to mind. Groznek. A fresh wave of loathing and pity swept in tandem through her. Loathing for the witch, for any matron or warden capable of such unadulterated cruelty; Cal, memories or no, whether basing itself on present interactions or a deep-seeded chaos, found herself wholly and unabashedly distrustful of anything proclaiming itself to be lawful. The hagspawn had been taunted into his rage. Any idiot could see that he was innocent. So what if he had spilled blood? They had asked for it.

And yet something lingered further than the indignation and sympathy, something deeper, and darker. There was a voice in her, somewhere, it screamed to free the hagspawn from his fate. It begged her to return to him and offer him a chance for redemption, to steal him away from the witches and show him that he could live a new life without being reviled as a monster. Cal could neither explain nor reason with this desire, it gripped her so deeply that she felt choked when she opened her mouth to speak, reaching for the prison's doors. It almost frightened her.

The sight within the building did strike a little sliver of fear into her heart. As she stepped inside, she realized that the old matron had been entertaining a guest – a certain witch she'd had the misfortune of meeting earlier in the day.

"_You_!" the old matron hissed, pointing at her as she whirled around. Cal tried to save face though was inwardly groaning. She didn't want to deal with the convoluted mass of horseshit wading through in speaking to the screaming, threatening old women. They lingered like braying crows, practically offering themselves up as target practice and Cal itched to make use of a slingshot.

"Stranger..." the witch in white began evenly. Cal realized she was the eldest, who had been the – shaky and illogical as it has been – voice of reason between the three of them earlier. "You have not yet made peace with the bear god. Tirzah the Old tells me that you have relieved the spirit shaman, Gannayev-Of-Dreams from his sentence. Why have you returned?"

She was staring at her – maybe studying, or maybe scrutinizing – at length, squinting as she slowly pieced together the words. Cal was aware, suddenly, that Gann might have done her more than one favor in standing at her side in battle. The witches seemed to be startled by the notion that he would stand with two foreigners. He had utterly floored them – and that leverage had been passed unto her, the bearer of the responsibility for her dispute with Okku and her party. Somehow that meant that she had become the uncelebrated hero of her domain – and half of her allies hated her.

But she had a vague idea of where she might find more. Her eyes moved across the interior of the room, and she noticed a couple of full quivers beside a shortbow and a spear.

"I take it those belong to Gann," she said, gesturing at them. "So I assume you'll have no issue with me taking them."

The old witch observed her as she cross the room and plucked the weaponry from the corner. She strapped on the slings and quivers, working out some precarious balance in being a pack-mule.

"I do not believe you, foreigner," the witch said as Cal struggled against the awkward artillery. In hindsight, that was fairly obvious; surely she was going to bring Gann along if she had sought out his things – or at least would have left her sword behind. "What is the real reason you have sought out our doorstep in the nigh middle of the night?"

Cal overturned the spear in her hands, resentful of being called out on her dishonesty – but not quite yet defeated. She turned back to the witches. "I wanted an audience with your hagspawn prisoner, Groznek."

"You have already stolen one life in the pursuit of meeting your vendetta. Must you take another?" the witch responded after a moment, sounding somehow taken aback.

"Gann made the decision to join us and he is not mine. His life is his own responsibility, here and now. Hells, he might even take off while I'm here talking to you," Cal snarled at her after having a double take at the old witch, hardly able to believe what she had heard. "And you would accuse me of stealing lives when I just saved his? I hear you're going to shove this man off a cliff soon, too."

She gestured to Groznek's cell and there was a certain disquiet that arose in the wake of her sentiment. Cal peered through the dark, and slowly began to put two and together once she realized that she couldn't make out the shape nor shadow of his bulk. Cal drew back in horror.

"You _didn't._"

"You have no right to tell us what is and what is not moral, girl," Tirzah the Old snapped at her, sounding grave and stressed. "He killed three men in cold blood. He knew the price of his anger."

"They forced him to do it! They taunted him because of his _heritage_!"

"He was not forced to do anything – he made the decision to kill them and knew that death would be the punishment," the witch in white steered the conversation, looming over Cal. "Such was his wish."

"He was innocent."

"He was a murderer. Your praise proves his guilt and would have worsened his sentence should you have involved yourself; only one monster would ever feel sympathy for another," Tirzah snarled at her and Cal recoiled. A moment later, anger billowed and roared in her wake.

"You bleeding _bitch_ - !" she began, raising Gann's spear when suddenly the witch in white cleared the distance in two quick steps and slapped her. Cal stumbled back against the wall in the force of the hit and slowly brought her hand to the throb against her cheek and jaw. The floor and ceiling rallied and converged and Cal had to steady herself against the wall in an effort to remain on her feet. There was more than just brute force behind that hand. The witch had smacked her outright with a spell rather than just scream the usual methods. She might have been impressed if she had not been – in equal parts – homicidal and nauseated. Nor could she even locate the floor.

"I've had all that I can stand and more from you, child, but I will not allow you to threaten my sisters," the woman said, and despite the withering age in her voice, it was a stern command. One that really tested the weight of your balls. Cal felt herself sneering, chewing on some strange, familiar indignation and angst regarding that tone.

"I'll lie your hide down next to Okku's when the day is done tomorrow," Cal threatened her, feeling faintly delusional. She had expected another slap, or at least for the old woman to conjure up a worse spell than whatever was currently making the entire room sweep in dark waves all around her, and yet nothing came. Cal reasoned that the old woman had not heard her, and tried again. "I said, I'm going to fucking skin you."

"I heard you, child. I wonder if it is that same desire for attention that caught you so deeply ensnared in the bear god's vision."

"What?" Cal knit her brow, thoroughly perplexed. It was difficult to sort through the lecture, the pain, the dizziness and the urge to swallow her gorge every few minutes.

"Your youth is evidenced in how stagnant and embittered you are – a truly petulant and incorrigible child will seek the attention of her superiors through marked disobedience. I wonder if it is that trait in you, child, that has caused Okku to rally his army, and I wonder if you'll ever yet learn your lesson. And I wonder now if you still feel that it was worth it."

"You don't know anything about me, you blathering old hag," Cal groaned. "I didn't take anything from Okku and I only killed him once because it came down to him or me."

"You boast that you will kill the bear god for a second time, and even if you could, stranger, I would warn you against such a foolish action," the witch said, deliberately and coldly as she glared over her. "The spirits are tied so strongly to the land, to shatter the heart would be to weaken the whole. Rashemen would cripple under his absence and the spirits would become melancholic and chaotic."

"Yippee," Cal said, still reeling and not fully aware of whatever was coming out of her mouth. "I ain't staying long, so that isn't my problem."

"It is that self-serving and careless attitude that makes mine and my sisters distrust you so," she said. "Should you kill the bear god tomorrow, you shall never meet with Magda – and no matter how powerful you are, my sisters and I shall drive you from our town."

"Ha," Cal laughed, tilting her head back and instantly regretting it. The nausea clawed angrily in her stomach, making her hesitate and swallow. Whatever spell that was, it had done more than knock her sense of equilibrium completely off its mark, it had _drugged_ her. "Arrogant. You can try. My allies will be hungover for the big bear-killing parade tomorrow, a pity that. But that won't stop me – won't stop us."

"Then what are you doing, child? Forsaking the two allies who risk life and limb to aid you by sneaking into our prison and sacred ground in this hour of the night? Your very presence taunts the spirits, yet you linger so and make no disguise of it. We all shall be lucky if they do not storm through Mulsantir tonight," the witch said. "You came here to try to illegally free a prisoner, thinking we would not notice?"

Cal only growled at her in response. She slung herself between a table and a chair, her feverish eyes interchanging between Tirzah the Old and Anonymous Witch in White.

"You do your allies a disservice to obsess over the dead. Groznek knew of his crimes. He repent, and he chose to die. His remorse gave us pause, but the hagspawn insisted his life to be taken," the witch said.

"Bullshit."

"Perhaps you have never felt such remorse, child. Such shame and such regret that leads a person to putting the knife to his own throat to seek his own redemption."

"There are other ways," Cal said, closing her eyes as she felt them spinning.

"If that is what you think, then you have never felt as the hagspawn did. Perhaps you never will."

"You made him want to die. You and the other Rashemi. You reviled him. You turned him into a monster."

"He could have gone with you and started a new life outside of Rashemen, where people are less cruel to him and his kind – but he did not. He chose to die," the witch said before kneeling where Cal now sagged betwixt table and chair. She took her chin in her hands between long, wrinkled fingers and the young barbarian sneered with disgust. But the witch commanded her attention, sweeping her eyes to meet one another. Her eyes were brighter, silver and raging with a fierce intelligence. She spoke softly, yet deftly, holding Cal's drunken attention long enough to get her point across. "He has felt humility for his actions and wished to die as he felt he was: a monster. It was an honorable death for him to admit fault and surrender to the gods. You, girl, you meet every opposition head-long and that pride that drives you in every careless action and thought will leave you with an undignified death and a shallow grave, when your time, as it inevitably will, comes."

Cal opened her mouth to retort, but gagged instead. The witch nimbly moved from the way as Cal crashed down in the chair, overturning the table in the process and collapsed upon the prison's floor, retching. Afterwards she rolled away from the meal she'd lost, holding a hand against her damp brow, trying to swallow away the burn in her throat. The nameless with returned to her side and held out her hand, which Cal promptly slapped away.

"That curse will last as long as you will find a more capable healer than I, girl, should you turn away my offer," she said and Cal numbly shook her head.

"No," she said and slowly, shakily, rose to her feet. Her limbs moved with the grace of jelly and she felt as though the floor underfoot quaked and thrust itself every which way in her step. She grabbed Gann's spear and fell against the prison's door, holding herself aloft by the bars as she threw a final, feverish glare towards the two witches. She spoke with a certain incoherence, hardly aware of what she said – or how she was saying it. "Your influence is toxic. I'll see that Gann never returns to these cells, and if you so much as raise a hand against Safiya I shall cleave it from your wrist."

Tirzah the Old recoiled in her anger, but the other witch seemed calmer – if not perplexed by the unprompted and senseless threat. Cal groped for the door's handle as a few arrows spilled from their quivers. "I won't let it happen again. Remorse makes no difference when you're dead."

"See that you won't, child."

Cal opened the door and stumbled out of it, landing face-first into the mud.

"Do not linger here at night," the witch in white warned her before shutting and locking the door. Cal had lost track of time, lying in the mud, waiting for the spell to wear off – but each time she stood, she realized that the old hag had been right; it wasn't going away. She needed to find a healer, and gods help her, she did not want to. She had an immediate, powerful and very nearly visceral reaction against the notion of healing. Magic and its uses, it made her head turn and gave her gooseflesh. She did not trust the witch's spells anymore than she did Safiya's.

She rose to her feet and stumbled up the road, grasping any fence or lantern that might act as a temporary means of stabilizing her before she staggered off again. Her head swam and ached just as badly as her stomach, and she fought herself to separate up from down, left from right.

xxx

Gann did not linger in the land of dreams; spirits clogged the planes and their cries echoed beyond thought and emotion. It was so strong and so infested with hate and fear in tandem that it gave him a headache. He had considered braving the gales from the spirits to seek out Safiya or Cal's dreamscapes, but he had no luck in that particular mission. He had assumed it to be the fault of the spirits interrupting the normally calm waters of the dreaming plane, before a thunderous knocking assaulted his door.

His first instinct was to make for his spear, but he realized with a sudden horror that he had not retrieved it from Tirzah's prison. He mentally kicked himself. Hard. That spear was not just a weapon, not just a trinket, nor was his shortbow. He had long since been mostly purchasing the arrows, but he had enchanted them – and crafted the heavier artillery by careful, meticulous hand. Temper thoroughly flaring, he rose and opened the door, expecting to meet with some furious peasant or pirate, or even some long-standing enemy he had forgotten the name of. But to his surprise – and slight relief – he met with Safiya, instead. And she looked as though she were in the throes of a nightmare.

"Where is Cal?"

Gann was baffled for a moment. "I hope you aren't suggesting that I was entertaining her; even I have standards, you know."

"Damn it, Gann, I'm serious. I can't find her, and you know how dangerous Mulsantir is to foreigners – let alone foreigners who have an entire spirit army against them," Safiya said, inviting herself into his room without another word, despite his half-formed protests. "She isn't at the bar, she isn't at the docks, she isn't in our room and she isn't in here. You're our ally, aren't you? I need your help."

"It has hardly been an hour since I retired to my room. You were the last one with her, therefor if our esteemed _ally_ has gone missing, it is entirely _your_ fault."

"Yes, Gann, I _know_!" Safiya turned on him, shouting in his face. He recoiled slightly, having not quite expected that. She gave a shuddering sigh and withdrew, tapping her staff against the ground. "After you left, we remained at the table... and then I told her I would retire to bathe and let her know when I was finished. But I can't find her anywhere. Please, Gann."

Feeling resigned to a combination of remorse and pity, Gann sighed. For that girl to wander about on her own would invite the entire spirit army to descend upon the living, tear through the houses and churches, braying and killing and until they found the blood _they_ wanted. It was dangling fresh meat before a starved wolf. "I'll humor you – but do not expect any groundbreaking clarity. Even one of my talent is subject to static when the spirits are in such an uproar."

Safiya folded her arms as Gann sat down on his bed, shutting his eyes to concentrate. He focused on the cold void he felt emanating in Cal's presence; despite his warnings to Safiya, he had assumed she might be easy to sense. She couldn't have gone very far, and even if she had, her strange, draining aura was distinct enough where it would be hardly difficult to sort her out from the massive quantities of spirits and peasants. And yet... it was. Not just difficult, but nigh impossible. There was one fleeting moment in which Gann had thought he might have located that cold pocket, but it came and gone without reason or warning. He wondered, suddenly, if Safiya's suspicions were warranted. Had the girl gotten herself killed?

"I do not sense her," Gann opened his eyes, glancing to his robed companion. Her eyes widened, but Gann rose a hand. "Causing a scene will only make my job harder. It is entirely plausible that the interference from the spirits is covering her tracks. If she were dead, they would be aware – and they would be celebrating."

That seemed to calm her slightly, but still she began to pace around the room. There was a lingering pause in which the woman seemed baffled – before suddenly he realized that she was flustered. "She's still alive, but you don't sense her – as if her tracks are being covered. Gann – if she were on another plane, would you be able to find her?"

"Through traditional means? No," Gann frowned at her, confused by the outlandish question. What did that matter? "What do you mean, 'on another plane'? I can walk in dream, of course, and if she were dreaming I would have found her by now."

"No, she isn't dreaming," Safiya muttered, holding her forehead. "Why would she...? Of course!"

Gann contemplating the sanity of his temporary comrades. Safuya turned back to him, fist in her palm.

"Shadow Mulsantir!"

"Shadow what?"

"Oh, but – she had the stone with her!"

"Safiya, you're making about as much sense as Okku's army. If you want my assistance in tracking down your friend, I'm going to need more information than half-formed thoughts and incoherent babbling," Gann said, rising to his feet as she shot him a glare.

"There is a gateway to the Plane of Shadow here in Mulsantir. Cal and I entered it when we first arrived in town, but if it is the only one... she has taken with her the only key to unlocking the portal through it. I suppose traditional means of discovering secrets would be to just stumble across them, but trusting in luck is a fool's errand..." she was beginning to mumble to herself again.

"Then we won't trust in luck. The Plane of Shadow, you say? If there is indeed another world in the shadow of our beloved little town, then we'll hear tell of it through rumor," Gann said and Safiya frowned at him.

"Gann, even if it were temporally-logical to ask every Rashemi still awake if they're aware of any gateways to the Plane of Shadow, we're going to attract even more negative attention from them."

"Ah, but I did not suggest that we banter with the living locals," Gann said, opening his door and leading her down the stairs. She still seemed a little nonplussed. "If there is any mystery to be found, peasants won't be aware of it."

"You speak of the spirits? Gann – despite how illogical the spirits are, they're fairly enthused by the notion of killing Cal and presumably anyone that allies with her. I cannot fathom any of them willing to offer us any aid in our search for her."

"Yes," Gann said, mildly distracted by the task at hand. She was right; many of the spirits would not be interested in helping them, for any price – but a few more suspect and susceptible to suggestion would be more willing to listen. Those that followed a less strict nature of morality or law – or some of a more desperate interest. "But that does not suggest such things are impossible, if you know how to speak a certain language."

"What are you suggesting?" Safiya asked as they stepped outside. Gann swallowed the urge to smile and swept out an arm, gesturing around their dark surroundings. Safiya, not perceiving what his was indicating, furrowed her brow – until with a little gasp, she stepped back and covered her mouth. Likely in sheer surprise just as well as it may have been horror; she was hunted, afterall, and Gann had just invited several of her pursuers to her doorstep. Spirits gathered in the corners of darkness, or rolling into sight with the fog. Some of their eyes, gems of pearly light blinked at them through fine mist in overhead as other figures were just barely outlined against their shadows. They whispered, some eagerly and others suspiciously, converging around the two living. Dozens of rats, several foxes, a handful of bats. All ghosts from the nightside of the universe, all eager to hunt down the prisoner and prove themselves to the more... orderly of their kind. "Gann...?"

"Lord Okku would reward the prisoner's warden with the respect of the mightiest of kings; a place among legends, and to be revered among man as well as beast," Gann spoke to the darkness, commanding the attention of the spirits. Many of them stirred, excitement rolling like thunder among them. Some of them, however, were smart enough to question his logic.

"The monster's protectors would willingly offer us to her?" a jackal approached, braying at him.

"Her presence offends us; just as she has robbed Old Father Bear of his offerings and slayed many of his kingdom, she has touched us with corruption and fled to the Shadow Plane. My companion and I wish nothing more than to see her subject to justice, and pledge ourselves against her," Gann said noted Safiya's brow lining. Either she found the notion or his dishonesty distasteful, but she had little idea how much of his reputation he risked in manipulating and betraying the spirits to such a terrible extent. Whatever their reason, he had never seen them unite in such passion before – not even against the invading Red Wizards of Thay, of which Okku was a sworn enemy. But Gann had meditated on what siding with Cal would mean before he had left the cell. If they were to know him as an enemy, Gann would be certain they knew just what the extent of that would be.

Only a small number of spirits dispersed, rightfully distrusting him. But others – a far greater number than the fleeing loyalists turned and ran into the night, embarking on the hunt for the prisoner and the portals into Mulsantir's shadow. Gann and Safiya immediately chased after them.

xxx

Kaelyn had thought another undead had risen when she heard the wet noise of a stranger approaching. It had been confusing and in Myrkul's vault, everything resounded against shade and shadow, echoing against one another ricocheting in breaks as they formed the whole. But a rhythmic slapping and dripping had caught her attention, and the Dove had whirled around to meet the beast with her mace – but recoiled in surprise when she instead saw a living immersed in shadow – and blood. A person was limping towards her, covered from nearly head to toe in blood; it dripped and pelted the floor as they slipped on it. Their tracks suggested they had met with the enclave of blood, wading through it rather than going around. Kaelyn was wary, but it was clear this person was not a threat; even if they had been hostile, they clearly were in no fit state to do battle.

As if propelled by such an observation, they collapsed to their knees, dropping their spear. Several arrows spilled across the muted floor and the quivers rolled to the ground. Kaelyn approached them, taking notice of every visible detail; there was fresh blood among the old, wounds peppering their body and savaging their armor. Some touch of magic had sunk into them, likely some form of curse. The Dove knelt beside the stranger, praying that this was not one of Kelemvor's tests to call her back to her title of Doomguide.

"Sanctuary," the stranger whispered, revealing her gender. Kaelyn was slightly taken aback, though she reached out and helped the girl place her head in her lap. The blood stained deeply into her pale hair and reached into the grooves and curves of the Dove's armor.

"There are few that would brave the tattered black gates that tie Mulsantir to its twin. Yet you have come, brave or not," Kaelyn said, bemused by the pilgrimage. If she was an adherent of Myrkul's, she would imagine the girl having had easier passage to his vault. "Has something called you to this place?"

"Yes," the girl said, though Kaelyn had to strain to hear her. "You."

Taken aback, Kaelyn remained silent, contemplating this girl and any association they might have shared. She opened her eyes to reveal a slight glow that was strengthened against the shadows of the plane, revealing her heritage. "You posses celestial blood, as well. But not from a Solar. Who are you?"

"Cal," she mumbled after a moment. "Your siblings are looking for you."

"I am not surprised," Kaelyn said, though frowned. "Evidently as were you, but you are hurt – and cursed."

"This town is hurt and cursed," she replied.

"There is terrible suffering in many of the planes," Kaelyn concurred, her face softening. "My spirit lies within the house of Ilmater. I shall do as I can to relieve you of yours."

"No," Cal said. "I follow Ilmater as well."

Kaelyn frowned, terribly confused and surprised. "He has forsaken you? Who, or for what cause, are you martyring yourself?"

She merely shook her head and mumbled incoherent phrases that Kaelyn could not decipher. She removed one of her gauntlets and felt the girl's forehead, though nearly recoiled – her flesh was hot enough to startle her. "Forgive me, Cal, but I do believe that your mind has fallen to fever. I cannot allow an innocent to suffer – such would be an offense to Ilmater, as you certainly are aware. You have found me, and no longer need to ignore your own pain."

In spite of much protesting, Kaelyn tilted her head back, shutting her eyes as she focused in prayer. She had resided within the vault for days, studying the puzzle of the door and had no need of prayers that did not concern her goal. She had considered that perhaps Ilmater had answered her at long last with a key in the form of a stranger, and the fact that she was an aasimar as well as a fellow disciple strengthened that suspicion. Perhaps in carrying on his work, she could somehow learn of the real key to unlocking that door – for the greater good.

But there was something of a backlash in her prayer to Ilmater. She had only just asked for the extent of his ability, to be endowed with a spell to combat the girl's many ailments – and met with such a swift and fervent denial that she was startled. Ilmater, known for his patience and sympathy, had not so much denied her as he had _forbid_ her from healing this girl.

She had sensed that there was something not-quite-right about the stranger, but had no way of putting her finger on it. Even now, she did not know what to think – Cal did not seem to be a threat, but...

A murmuring of approaching voices shook her from her thoughts.

"Did you really not see that coming?"

"Of course I did. It would take a grand fool to have missed it."

"You certainly seemed surprised when they attacked."

"I was hardly surprised; I knew they would attack when we did not hand her over. I simply did not expect them to do so _before_ we found her."

"I'm amazed that they believed you long enough to lead us anywhere at all."

"You certainly followed us rather quickly for someone so full of doubt."

"Gann – look."

"Ah, what a perfect trail for us to follow. I suppose we should not be surprised that our incorrigible ally has gotten herself mortally wounded."

"Gann!"

"What is your purpose for coming here?" Kaelyn asked, very aware of how terribly off her guard she was. With Cal lying in her lap, her gauntlets on the floor beside her mace and without Ilmater's blessing, she was not in the best circumstances should these two prove hostile. The voices abruptly stopped, and Kaelyn squinted through the darkness. Two forms took shape, peeling around the enclave of blood rather than wading through it. They neared her and halted, seeming to be taken aback by the scene. The man recovered first.

"My purpose resides in your lap, my winged beauty," he said, his voice drastically changing from the snide, irritated tone he used with the woman to a gliding velvet. Kaelyn frowned and glanced to Cal as his comrade rounded on him, chastising him for his comment, little as Kaelyn understood it.

"With Cal? Have you followed her in her search for me?"

"Technically, yes," the woman donned in robes snapped, startling her. "We had no idea she'd be chasing down _you_ specifically, as she told neither of us before disappearing into the night. Kaelyn the Dove? Your siblings asked us to find you, as I suspect Cal may have told you."

"Now this I have not heard of. Why now?" the peculiar man glanced at his companion, folded his arms and returned his attention to Cal – his eyes immediately widened. He promptly unfolded his arms and dropped to his knees, grabbing the spilled arrows and quivers as if in terrible scandal. "These are _mine_!"

"You seem far more concerned with what is or is not yours than the terrible state your companion is in," Kaelyn said, baffled and almost incensed by their cold interactions. She gestured to Cal, brushing aside the uneven, bloodied bangs to feel her forehead once again. "She is struck with a terrible fever, cursed by a form of magic and wounded perhaps mortally. Ilmater has forsaken me, and I am at a loss of how to heal her – or why she was forsaken at all."

"Perhaps because that brat is very nearly suicidal and your conscience knows better than to waste pity on someone who invites abuse unto themselves."

"Gann, I've had enough!" the woman snapped at him as he collected his arrows, quivers and bow. He blatantly ignored her anger. She turned to Cal and Kaelyn, neatly side-stepped the blood and tucked her legs underneath her. "I've had some training with healing spells – some. I memorized a couple the other night, but... admittedly, I did not count on requiring them. What is the the most pressing concern?"

"If you cannot use healing magic, dispel her curse," Kaelyn suggested. "Assuming that you are capable."

"Of course I am capable, I am a -," she began, indignant before regaining herself and glancing around. Kaelyn merely stared up at her, patiently. Safiya sighed after hesitating. "I suppose there really isn't any point in keeping it a secret; the witches already know. I am a Red Wizard. So, yes, capable of dispelling curses."

"Oh, there we go," Gann said, finally retrieving his spear and strapping it onto his back. "The truth, finally rears its bald, tattooed head – a mortal enemy of Rashemen, allied with the cause of the spirits' madness. How little I saw before, now it all makes sense."

"Stifle it, as if you're in any better position. You know, you never did tell us what you were locked up in there for."

"For a _wizard_, your memory is certainly unreliable. I told you, I am far too handsome to look upon," he said, playing bashful with a hand upon his chest.

"Why did we even bother asking for your help?"

"Consider that if it were not for my help, you'd be traipsing about the docks of Mulsantir calling for her all night, inviting sailors and spirits to silence you. I found her."

"No, the spirits you manipulated found her – but not before they tried to kill us."

"And surely we'd be dead if they had not first picked a battle with that nightwalker!"

"_Peace_, both of you," Kaelyn plead. "It makes little sense for you to tear yourselves apart and burn loyalties over temporary squabbles. Your ally still requires assistance – such that I am unfortunately able to give."

"Yes, yes," Safiya rubbed her brow and paused momentarily before muttering a lengthy and tongue-tying incantation. There was a release of something in the air, as if something pulled taut and then let go, gradually decreasing until it was gone. Cal sighed loudly and knit her eyebrows.

"Son of a _bitch_," she whispered. Kaelyn was bemused by the wizard's ability.

"You have great skill," she turned to her and Safiya looked briefly sheepish.

"Yes, well, I've been studying magic my entire life – such things are not profoundly difficult," she said. "Though that was a particularly complex curse to unravel."

"And now we have another puzzle," Gann interrupted, gesturing to Cal. "Your friend is still – apparently – mortally wounded. Unless you have a spell for that, she'll bleed out and then this will have been all for nothing."

"I..." Safiya began, and withdrew in something of a despair. "... nothing strong enough to heal everything. Anything that remains, we'll have to take care of with bandages and stitches – but she'll be in no fit state to meet the army tomorrow."

She had rose her hands in an effort to concentrate, but Gann's own fell atop them. Safiya started and frowned at him, where he met her with a grin.

"Then let me prove my worth, if you still have doubts."

"Your own loyalists did just assault us, Gann."

"My loyalists?" he laughed and knelt beside them. "The spirits I barter with pledge no loyalty to Okku. Those that lead us here? Pay them no mind. That was only a temporary means to an end."

"I'm not mortally wounded," Cal grunted and withdrew from Kaelyn's lap, trying to sit herself upright – she faltered, however, her palms slipping in the mixture of fresh and old blood, causing her to fall back into it. She cursed under her breath.

"Even if not, you still must face Okku tomorrow. And... at dawn, I think. Do you really suppose you have a chance without proper healing?" Gann asked and Cal turned, narrowing her eyes at him. But she had no sufficient argument. Her ally grinned. "No, I had thought not."

"And you are... a healer?" Kaelyn asked him, still trying to keep her bearings in the strange situation. So much information pelted her at every angle, but she could only process so much of it at a time. Gann gave a theatrical, though minimal bow.

"That and more."

"Prove it," Safiya rose an eyebrow at him and Gann huffed slightly, though seemed to comply. He shut his eyes and braced himself, leaning back for a brief pause as if caught in a temporary trance. He reached out, and despite how she shied away from him, he reached Cal and moved his hand just over one of her wounds. At his fingers, a blue light began to fringe and bloomed in his palm – it spread to Cal's flesh and she inhaled sharply as it began to knit back in place. He moved to the next, and it was not long before she was once more intact – the only scars were the tears in her armor, revealing glimpses of pale flesh beneath. Safiya's face had seemed to freeze in a permanent surprise.

Kaelyn was perplexed. Ilmater had denied her the ability to heal this girl, but the stranger – Gann – whatever he was, wizard or sorcerer had called upon a power of his own. Something yet allowed this girl to live. She turned to him. "What god have you petitioned?"

"_God_?" Gann repeated, frowning and sounding quite baffled. "Petty superstitions are meaningless to me; it is through no illusion that I find a source of power, but through the spirits."

"The spirits of Rashemen?" Kaelyn asked. She was not familiar with them and knew of them only by rumor, having yet to encounter any. Gann nodded.

"The same spirits who want to kill me?" Cal asked, still having yet to pick herself up from the ground. She lie as if defeated, glaring up at him from the blood.

"No – you'll find that spirits are as diverse in their loyalties and strategies as the living. Some of them would see that you live and defeat the bear god in battle," Gann said and Cal knit her brow in confusion.

"Forgive me," Kaelyn said, "but I must know – what battle do you speak of? Which spirits, and which god? You say you'll meet with an army tomorrow, is that right?"

"Yes, songbird," Gann nodded to her. "Our ally has offended a spirit who many see as a king – she has robbed his grave and slighted him once, and he seeks her blood as penance."

"He's a delusional despot who's mistaken me for some prisoner," Cal said angrily, heaving herself upright. "I haven't robbed his grave, I escaped from it. He's gotten an army together to kill me tomorrow. That's why I sought you out; your siblings pledged to stand at my side in return for finding you."

Kaelyn was taken aback. "They did what?"

"They want you to return home, wherever that is."

"_No_," Kaelyn said and Cal rose an eyebrow at her. "I will not see my siblings harmed. You have kept true to your promise to them, and for that, I thank you. Allow me to stand at your side in their stead and free them from their pledge; they are innocent and should not raise their hand to a force that has not called them."

"We'll need all the help we can get," Gann said, but Cal put a hand up to hush him – a gesture he seemed to take deep offense to and promptly glared at her.

"If you feel that strongly about it, I'll let them go," she said, though seemed perplexed. "You are a priestess of Ilmater, though?"

"And you are a fellow adherent; I would not see blood spilled if we can avoid it. Will you reason with the spirit king, and look for an alternative to war?"

"_Reason_ with him?" Gann began and Cal shot him a look. He folded his arms and returned it.

"I can try, but I doubt he's going to be reasonable," she said, turning back to Kaelyn. The situation gave her pause and she wondered if Ilmater had denied her because the girl was a war monger. Had he forsaken her for her crimes and path to bloodshed? The thought certainly was illustrated and perhaps biased by the copious amounts of blood still bedecking her, and something terribly hollow in her silvery gaze. "I have a mission. I can't let Okku stop me. If it comes down to him or me, I won't be taken without a fight."

Kaelyn nodded after hesitating. Yes, she could understand that – how deeply she understood that sentiment, in fact. It felt fairly profound – the way the girl had said it, underlying what it meant to her. She, too, had a purpose.

"What brings a priestess of Ilmater to Myrkul's Vault, anyways?" Safiya, quiet until then, had asked rather suddenly, surprising the two girls. Kaelyn glanced to her, bemused.

"I seek entrance to the depths of this vault. The next stage of my pilgrimage lies there, and this gate before me is but another obstacle placed in my path," Kaelyn said, gesturing to it. In the shadow, a staircase lead down to the massive gate, reviling it to be as sinister as it appeared. The curious party studied it.

"Do you know how to open it?" Cal asked.

"I have stood before this door and studied its surface for days countless, and let my eyes fall upon the black upon black, the thin etchings of its surface. If you relax your eyes to the shadow, you see the true depths of the artistry of these mosaics, some written in ash, others in shale, slate, and dyed tileblack. Within these shades is a key. And once unlocked, the path will continue on."

"You said you would stand with us against Okku's army tomorrow," Cal said, turning back to her. "Assuming we live, I'll do my best to aid you in opening it."

"Cal," Safiya began, then paused, as if unsure of herself. She frowned at her ally, and Kaelyn took the hint. She smiled at the two girls.

"I would welcome such company," she said. "Still, my purpose is here. I will stand with you, and return to this vault. You mentioned that you have a mission, as well. I would urge you not to abandon it. If I am still seeking an answer when you have met with your purpose, then I would gladly accept your help. I pledge myself to your service. Let us see what good we can achieve by our alliance, and may Ilmater bless our endeavor. Perhaps you were called here, just as I was. If so, perhaps the planes have need of us."

Gann uttered a laugh under his breath and Kaelyn glanced to him.

"And pray tell us, priestess – what is our purpose here?" he asked. Kaelyn paused, and took the moment to drink him in – everything and nothing spoken in tandem. He continued as she observed him.

"Kaelyn – is that your name, songbird?" Gann asked. She nodded curtly. "Well, forgive me, but I had the sneaking suspicion that quite none of us are aware of what's going on here. The closest thing we have to answers are the witches of Rashemen and Safiya's own little secrets... and whatever is rattling around in that empty skull of Cal's."

"Stow it, Gann," Cal growled. Safiya had begun to mutter something under her breath. "You helped us tonight, but don't forget who saved who first."

"Who saved who?" Gann seemed taken aback, withdrawing as he blinked at her. "Such arrogance! It was I who agreed to stand at your side and face an army!"

"Yeah, and we got you out of that death sentence in the prison!"

"Dying from boredom is hardly a death sentence," Gann scoffed, and folded his arms as he glared at her. "I knew your temper was monstrous, but your ego is utterly _staggering_."

"Ain't that the pot calling the kettle black."

"You are so ungrateful – I could have let you die, you know."

"Thanks for keeping your word and not letting me die."

"Please," Kaelyn said. "I would not see that my presence causes such a rift between two allies."

Safiya snorted. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Kaelyn. They hated each other long before they met you."

Kaelyn returned her attention to Cal and Gann, tilting her head. They were glaring daggers at one another, and she indeed saw the brand of anger and angst that set between them. They met like oil and water – such an oil that was about to meet fire. She settled her sights on Gann. "You are strange."

"I beg your pardon."

"There is much about your heritage that evidences in your behavior," she continued and Cal seemed to perk up.

"Oh?"

"I am curious what this ebony-eyed creature of the slopes of Celestia sees in one such as I. Perhaps more than my _comrade_?" he indicated to Cal, his tone biting with annoyance. "Pray, priestess, continue."

"Very well. I see that your feet find the patterns of dirt and sand beneath them uncomfortable, as if you are used to stepping in dreams, not earth. You toss about words like a wind around you, in the hopes that their speed and flurry will deflect questions and prevent you from being seen for what you are," Kaelyn said, then her expression softened. "You are hurt. And that pain drives you to hurt others, for you have been taught that that is the wheel that turns the world."

"You saw that from _looking_ at him?" Cal asked, clearly incredulous. Gann had lapsed into silence and Kaelyn saw at once that she had done more than make him uncomfortable – she had chilled him into a brief, yet impotent submission. She felt an immediate surge of guilt.

"Ah... I think your faith may have led you astray, and your eyes may not see as deeply as I had thought," Gann said, his tone just as shaken as he appeared to be. He reclaimed himself, however, and waved her off theatrically. "A shame, but no doubt my colors would blind you."

"Spectra of color is something I know only from text, not from experience. My eyes do not perceive color as you do. There is only black, white and little else. It is another mark of my heritage, and I do not find it a hindrance," Kaelyn explained. ""My grandfather had once told me that it was something my belief had chosen, not my blood. I would not call it blindness, but I do see the world differently."

"Hmmm," Gann rubbed his chin, seeming to steady once the attention had been surrendered from him. He suddenly gestured to Cal. "And what do you see in our esteemed comrade? She is an amnesiac, you know, and certainly would jump at any reading you might offer her."

Cal seemed almost to blanch, and Kaelyn hesitated – yet there were so many questions and so many perplexing curiosities she felt upon looking at her. To invite wonder at the mention of her lack of memories only made her more eager.

"Although I saw it on you when we first met, now that I've studied you, I see that it is not the first time you have walked in shadow," she said, and paused, knitting her brow as she ran over the details. "Your journey has marked you, and I sense an absence within you, as if your heart was removed. Its pain has faded, to be replaced with something new, an affliction... seeping into the open wound. Whatever affliction I sense within you that has filled the wound – it feels larger than the wound itself, as if the wound is merely a door."

Cal met her stare, breathing slowly as the priestess examined her. There was a lingering sense of doubt in her presence; Ilmater's fervent denial, Gann's ability to heal her, her sense of purpose in tandem with her sense of loss and... was it...? Yes – fear. A deep, chilling vein of it. Kaelyn could not place what shook the girl so – it was beyond her assessment and existed long before she had entered the realm of shadow. But she knew she would be doing her a disservice to name it. "I do not know if Ilmater's blessings will aid you, but the fact you bear such pain is a testament to your strength of will."

"She is heartless? Well, that certainly answers a few of my questions," Gann said and Cal responded with a very rude hand gesture.


	5. Okku

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up. I have a creative block like no other.

I cheated and made Okku larger than his in-game representation. Come on, he's a _god_. Mononoke style.

Names and murky faces converged that night, budding samples to the whole, eventually blooming into an unsettling blend of opposing feelings in tandem. The night had been less than young when the party finally retired, yet none of them had slipped painlessly into sleep. Even those who were incapable of hearing the spirits' plight could sense it on some level, and it had occurred to Gann, as he tried vainly to rest, that it was likely that all of Mulsantir was tossing and turning in the same states. Safiya, perturbed to share her room with a new stranger, stared at the shadowy walls as Kaelyn contemplated the coming battle. It was with bitter and anxious resignation that Gann crossed to the dreaming plane and sought out Cal's mind; the more he had considered their predicament, the more sense it made to meet the spirits head on. They would not sleep and the longer they waited, the angrier and stronger the army grew – and they risked the town eventually rising up with pitchforks and torches to throw them to the incorporeal wolves.

He set out to wake the girls, but that desire was extinguished fairly quickly. Kaelyn's gales were fierce and he found himself with neither the energy nor the interest to part them. He found her wrought with single-minded fever, an almost fanatic sentiment that could lead to no good. Safiya was no more cooperative. For as he glimpsed one sight of her, another emerged – all voices of the same distant echo ricocheting across the dreamscape. Colors of red and white shimmering between the here and now, the past and future. It was such a broken, jagged stretch of confusion that Gann parted from it quickly, feeling mildly unsettled himself. He'd dealt with nightmares before, but such a paradoxical array of sliced thoughts, spoken and unspoken words and muffled understanding melding with illogical disbelief – that was not a nightmare, nor a dream as much as it was the shattered scream of insanity.

It took him a bit of searching, but it suddenly made sense that the borders of Cal's subconscious were dim with shadow. Gann had honestly assumed she was lying about her memory, but the lack of substance suggested either amnesia or disability – and he wasn't entirely sure which was more likely. The void extended to the very edge of her dream, and as he neared, he realized with a note of disquiet, that it reached out to him. He felt the strange tug of its vacuum as he neared, felt it resonate like a deep and desperate hunger. Gann didn't want to admit that the sensation overturned something in him, something he had not felt in years. It frightened him – but even more than that, it intrigued him. He had never encountered anything like it; not even the blackest of hearts nor the emptiest of souls had ever been so dark and devoid.

He decided that he definitely was not going to linger after they met with Okku. Should they live, Gann was going to take his leave – far, far away from this disparaged void and her surreal company. But for now, he had no choice but to brave the dark waters of this hollow mind and seek the dreamer.

And the first thing he noticed had been a rhythm – was it a heart beat? It was too faint to properly make out, and between the varying shades of shadow, he had little visual evidence to go on. Everything was some shade of black, surrounding and nestled against one another to just barely create outlines. There was a deafening silence, underscored with that bleak and senseless beat, but no echo. It made the fine hair on the back of his neck rise. He could only barely make out the shape of some arrangement of buildings around him... buildings, and... and something else. Something familiar.

Gann squinted against the dark, creeping closer to the dappled pattern of light against dark, slate against coal – the shape of stone upon stone and the finer, smoother grain of wood. The only noise in the background remained that soft tempo, and he realized that it was only just growing louder. It was a steady creak. The spirit shaman felt his brow furrowing against his thoughts and as he turned and the shapes began to manifest within his own memory, he realized with a pique of horror that he was standing before gallows. He looked up.

The noise suddenly strengthened. "_Monster_."

He had only enough time to make out a body of a wolf, oddly enough, hanging from the rope before the shadow began to untangle itself and dissipate from under his feet. It suddenly melted away to reveal the murky tones of his dim room, and in the backlash of the moment, Gann could not recall the last time he had felt such relief. He learned his lesson; confrontations would need to be handled the old-fashioned way, in this temporary allegiance.

xxx

_ You rescued me... you must have been sent by Ilmater... please, please..._ A man and woman, tearful and frightened. Their names were gone, washed away with the rest of her memory, but the feelings carried like seeds on the wind. _Please, find my son. Ilmater bless you. He has called you here._

"Wake her," a voice snapped, interrupting the flow of the voices. It paused, lingering for a brief moment before the darkness encroached once more. The scent of night fell heavily upon their senses; the crisp air, tinged with salt from the sea. The deepening shades contrasted with the illumination from the moon. And... something chilling. The howling.

"She should rest – we all should," a softer voice whispered. Children, somewhere, began to cry.

"If we don't … soon … be resting among worms..." _Help_.

The sudden snarling face of a wolf manifested with an outside bang, and Cal jolted awake with a gasp.

"Damn him," Safiya muttered under her breath, turning to her startled companion.

"What's going on?" she asked, her heart hammering beneath her ribs. There was a sense of urgency, demanding and inexplicable and terrifying. Safiya shook her head, looking exhausted and irate.

"Gann," she said. "He is insistent that we meet with the army before dawn."

"Dawn?" Cal furrowed her brow. The mix of scenery between what was then and what was now had thrown her.

"He felt concerned enough to invite himself into our room and wake us. You might have heard the door slam," the Red Wizard continued. Cal glanced to Kaelyn, noting that she was strapping on her heavy armor and looking a little disoriented. Gann. A bitter memory of him lingered behind her closed eyes, somehow tainting the faint murmurings of memory that taunted her in her rest. The situation slowly settled outside of her panic, and she grit her teeth. Cal swung her legs over the bed and rose, temper breathing life into her. It had hit her. He thought he could command them. It was time to show him who was in charge, here.

"What in the nine hells are you talking about, facing Okku at dawn?" Cal shouted as she crossed the hallway, slamming open his door. Gann paused in the act of strapping on his spear's holster, though hardly looked at her "Do you suppose we'll have an advantage as we stumble and falter due to sheer exhaustion? Are you some sort of expert tactician? Who do you think you _are_?"

Gann finally met her gaze, though the passive attitude reflected just the same; his stare was cold and angry. "I _think_ that I am by far the only one in this pitiful little army with any knowledge of the land and the spirits within them and that it would be _wise_ to heed my counsel."

"And if your counsel is bullshit? How is Safiya going to memorize her spells? When will Kaelyn pray – in the midst of dodging spells and claws? And how in the hells will I even pick up my sword?" Cal snarled at him, talking wildly with her hands as the spirit shaman continued to stare, passive as sculpted ice. With a note of incredulity, she turned away from him. "I'm in charge, anyways; _your_ opinion doesn't matter. We're going to sleep and resting properly before we slay that monstrosity."

"Certainly – nix the slaying him part of the plan – replace it with accepting death and resigning ourselves to fate and we'll have ourselves a routine outcome."

Cal stopped in her tracks. His bold retort, aside from making her furious, gave her pause. She glanced back to him.

"And what in the hells makes you so sure of that? Why dawn?"

"Well, either way, our chances are not the best. In that, you can be assured I am speaking true. Still, we have one advantage - Okku's army," Gann said and Cal gaped at him.

"You're mad," she dismissed, beginning to turn around. "I'm going back to bed."

"If you're so eager to die," Gann snarled, beginning to follow her. "Do so on your own time. You bought my blade and I will not throw my life upon it just so you can get another precious hour in before the spirits ravage the entire town."

"Huh?" she stopped and turned back to him, raising a brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Cal," Gann said and paused, rubbing his brow. "I must ask you a serious question, one that I would prefer you consider with as much thought as that little brain of yours can bear before answering. Are you mentally incapacitated? Has whatever stolen your memories stolen your mind and general ability to reason as well? Are you capable of _thought_?"

Cal's eyes widened throughout his tangent and a deep, angry color rose in her face as she balled her fists. "Excuse me?"

"Ah, so you are not capable of processing language, either? I should have expected as much, you - ," Gann was cut off suddenly by Cal suckerpunching him in the middle. He doubled over as she stormed back to her own room.

"Take off your armor! Get back to bed!" she pointed at a bewildered Kaelyn and Safiya, voice raising to a roar. "_I'm_ the one Okku is after and _I'm_ the one making decisions! Gann is not here to order you around, he's here to _catch arrows for us_!"

"Ah, Cal," Safiya said, meeting her side gingerly. "Gann is a spirit shaman. I don't think that dismissing him is the wisest course of action..."

But 'wise,' seemed to be her hot button. "I don't _care_. Okku will fall just as easily at noon as he would at da - ,"

"It isn't about _easy_," Gann's voice, cold as ice, slithered from behind her. She began to turn just as he caught her shoulder and forcibly whirled her around with one hand, the other at his stomach. He looked furious. "It's about securing a victory. Consider why Okku even _has_ an army. Consider why _you_ even bartered me out of my cell. Even if I'm here to 'catch arrows for you,' it's _aid_. _Assistance_. Are you even sentient?"

"So kill his lackeys? Well no shit," Cal began, wrenching her shoulder from his grasp, but he caught her wrist instead. As if struck, a wave of electricity rolled through her entire limb and spread through her shoulder and the pit of her arm. In start and in pain, she yelped and jolted back, but Gann was not deterred.

"Kill his lackeys _before_ they tear through the town and slaughter us in our sleep, you _idiot_," he hissed at her. He paused briefly, grimacing as his grasp tightened on her wrist. Cal's wide eyes flickered to it. Slivers of pale flesh shined between his fingers, wrinkling against his grasp. He continued, his voice lowering into nothing short of a growl as he winced. "The spirits... nnh... are restless. There's a _legion_ waiting outside the gates, led by Old King Bear... he's _awake_... and not pleased about it."

The terse silenced crystallized within the room, almost in a tangible effort as Gann met Cal's gaze. His facade had been stripped away, revealing nothing but gravity and a cold, resilient anger. "That army sustains his rage and his strength... they are like a drumbeat for his heart. Now, you did not just secure an ally or a bodyguard – I am _neither_ to you. I offer you my counsel not to play into any petty hierarchical dominance games with you, but to survive this battle. I am a spirit shaman, and to your ill-bred, barbaric customs, that may seem strange to you – but here my ability is an invaluable power that would serve you well should you prove capable of _listening_ to me. I can hear those beasts screaming for your blood, and while I don't quite _blame_ them, I intend on living through this. They want to take the town _now_; we do not have _time_ for you to lie around doing as you please."

Safiya and Kaelyn stared, wondering whether or not Cal would comply – or if the two of them would simply kill each other instead. They had locked in an unsettling stare-down with one another, neither making another move. Cal's fist balled. Kaelyn, however, interrupted.

"Is there a way to meet this bear god peacefully?" she asked. They continued to glare for a final moment before Gann glanced to her, as if he had been delayed in hearing. He gave a humorless laugh and Cal tore her hand from his grasp, striding back to her bed as she rubbed her wrist and shrugged the long sleeves of dress shirt back over it. She grabbed her tattered leather armor from the floor.

"_Get out_!" Cal roared, her back still turned to him.

"Out of the room, or out of the Veil? Because if you're 'firing,' me, you can rest assured that I will _not_ heroically meet with Okku tomorrow and save you from certain de - ,"

"_Get out of the room, now_!"

xxx

Light was only just beginning to fringe the horizon, bleeding into the dark abyss of the sky. Safiya muttered under her breath and counted on her fingers and Gann was able to just make out a few words here and there, segments of incantations that she had memorized prior – or was currently drilling now. Gann hoped for the former. If the battle proved too harrowing, he hoped to escape – but he didn't have any delusions about invoking the rage of the spirits. It would be hard to hide from them, if even possible. The thought made him anxious, but no less angry. And suddenly, he wanted answers.

"What did you _take_ from him anyway?" Gann demanded, breaking her concentration. She stood across from him at the hallway, outside of Cal's locked door. "I've never seen... or heard... such an uproar. I'm surprised the land isn't tearing itself apart."

"You already know what I took," she said, indicating to the closed door.

"And you risked life and limb and became a sworn enemy to the spirits of the land for... _her_? See, I thought most thieves were interested in _treasure_..."

"It's none of your concern," Safiya snapped. They tested his patience as much as they invoked his curiosity.

Kaelyn remained silent as Cal prepared, observing her. The aasimar wasted no time in locking the door and throwing off the shirt she had slept in, and the half-celestial already knew why. Gann had touched upon an old wound in their verbal battle; perhaps more than either of them knew, but Cal seemed to be more interested in the physical. She held out her arms, turning them in the dim candlelight, scrutinizing the flesh. Patterns of light dimpled her hands and wrists in what to Kaelyn was various shades of gray and white – but to another, would have been rivets of pink and purple scar. She flexed her hands, moving svelte, wiry muscle in her forearms, watching light interact with shadow across the patterns.

"Whatever past it is that you cannot recall," Kaelyn began softly, and Cal looked to her. "... haunts you."

She averted her gaze at once and began to tie herself into her armor and all of its trappings. "Apparently."

"But such scars can be healed," Kaelyn said after a moment.

"I don't remember them; they don't matter. They're just an inconvenience," Cal said.

"At the very least, you might do well to avoid collecting more," Kaelyn returned, and the aasimar paused to glance at her yet again. "This spirit that you will meet today – I ask that you remember Ilmater's name even as the bear god curses your own. We must at least try."

Cal nodded and Kaelyn bowed her head to pray. She prayed to be armed with an arsenal capable of dispelling the oncoming storm without creating another in its wake.

xxx

The night air was so frigid that their breath was visible. Great plumes of fog enveloped the party as they exited the Sloop, licking at their heels as they began to walk through Mulsantir. The only sounds that fell in their wake were the crunching of frosted grass and the sucking mud underfoot. Despite the early hour, dim candlelight burned in certain windows, and peasants peered out behind curtains and slivers of doors left ajar. As they passed, the onlookers withdrew into hiding, drawing said curtains and quickly pulling doors shut behind them. A few remained, offering them none but cold and assuming glares, their eyes following like dogs as they walked.

"I get the feeling that they're not wishing us well," Safiya murmured to Cal.

"Of course not. You've brought their god howling to their doorstep, and we are standing against him," Gann said. "They wish to see us dead."

"Then we will disappoint them," Cal did not hesitate to retort. She exchanged a brief look with Gann, narrowing her eyes before returning them to the heavy gates. They heaved with the effort of opening, creating a very narrow space by unseen hands to allow the party through. "I beat him once; I can beat him again."

"And do you expect that bravado to keep you safe when they tear us down to get to you?" Gann asked, temporarily unthinking. The words of the wolf rang dimly in his ears, as if the conversation had taken place so many years ago. He was briefly surprised to hear himself echoing the very insult that had been cast in his shadow before Cal threw her gaze over her shoulder, halting at the gates. She looked momentarily distant, her strange gaze falling across each of them. There was a sudden hesitation before she shook her head and returned to their set path.

"I expect you to keep yourself safe," she snapped, icy and contained. "You already said you're out for yourself. See if you don't turn tail and run the moment Okku charges."

"You have surprisingly little faith in me," Gann said. "Considering that I am still here."

"Yes, you've already shocked me. See that you do it a second time."

"Well, let us pause for a moment and consider our next course of action," Gann said, stepping before the girls to halt them. "I do not think we should simply rush into this blindly."

"We're not," Safiya said. "You've already told us what to do. We'll attack the army first, and then Okku."

"We are outnumbered – and that is putting it lightly. We will hardly have a chance to prepare ourselves before they overwhelm us."

"And? Are you telling us to surrender, or run?" Cal suddenly asked him, catching him slightly off his guard. He eyed her.

"If _you_ surrendered, the entire ordeal would be done and over with," Gann said and her face fell. "Okku wants you and only you. He is an ancient thing, and will keep to his idea of honor. That is, if he remembers it."

"Are you telling me to throw myself to him?" Cal asked, the anger fled from her voice. Kaelyn's black eyes floated from Gann to Cal, and rested upon her. She glanced to the half-celestial before returning to Gann, looking uncharacteristically perturbed.

"No," the spirit shaman said after a moment. "It would be worth considering if not for his army. They are out for blood. There is no telling what their reaction would be, should you martyr yourself. But you, _brave one_, would not even consider it, would you?"

There was a tentative pause and Cal swallowed whatever words had built upon her tongue. She turned from the party and passed through the gates.

"Listen for my voice above the din," he said as they followed her. "I will let you know when he is weak enough to do battle with."

"And if you fall?" Cal asked, not looking back to him. In the distance, bright swills of light tore through the horizon, the outraged cries ringing out in the tense air. They billowed like furious gales, carrying in echoes and ricocheting like peals of light against mirrors. There was a strength in the air, so forceful and demanding that it beat like drums. The party's gait slowed as they stared at the oncoming storm, each with a mixture of awe and horror.

"If you let me fall," Gann said quietly, "then you will have to use your best judgment. But clearly, it is lacking."

His words died away as the vast hoard began to breach the distance. Cal hesitated before squaring her shoulders and walking to meet them. Gravitating towards the front, Okku stood and Cal visibly paled in the approaching light. Safiya also seemed a little taken aback by the sight of him; surely the shadow of the bear they had faced in his barrow was no comparison to this form. Fully awake and fresh out of hibernation, driven by his fury. He was easily the largest spirit among the horde, standing heads above the other beasts; the angry, pulsating heart of the army. Ribbons of blue light – a fringe of energy so strong and sharp that it manifested outside of even his body, wrapped around him and wavering with his every movement. His eyes, glowing like lanterns fell across them and his large muzzle lined with a snarl. He and Cal separated from their respective packs and closed the remaining distance between them.

"So, you are brave afterall," Okku growled as he approached, his voice strong and guttural enough to cut through the icy air. It resonated so deeply that Gann could feel it vibrating beneath his ribs. He stopped several feet from their group, and his nose came up to Cal's face. "Wood and stone would _not_ have kept us from you, but it is good that the innocent are spared my army's rage. This can be ended quickly, if you like. Present your neck. It will fit snugly between my teeth, and then we _all_ can return to our dreams."

Okku took a few steps nearer, opening his blunt maw, baring his fangs. He snapped suddenly and Cal visibly jumped. She slowly squared her shoulders and glared.

"No."

"Mph. In your place, I would show my belly, and let my allies be spared," Okku growled, his eyes flickering from one ally to the next. They lingered on Gann briefly before returning to Cal. She looked particularly struck by his words, and the hand that had began to reach for her sword's hilt fell away. "You do not know what you are, not yet. If you did, you might _ask_ me to kill you. Better that you never learn. Now, we have spoken _enough_. I will live in a world that is free of you. Or I will die, and dream no more!"

"No!" Cal shouted. The hand returned to her hilt and she wrenched her greatsword from its holster. She lunged before their party, sweeping an arch with the sword and halting it before them – as if in their defense. She was close – too close for comfort; the rise of energy from the spirit's bulk drew close to her, and her hair fluttered against Okku's breath. Cal rose her chin, slightly – both an offering and a challenge as their eyes met. "Spare your followers _and_ mine."

"Cal -," Safiya started, but Kaelyn intervened.

"Let her attempt to pacify the spirit. We will defend her," the Dove said softly. Safiya did not look convinced, but she quieted.

"Let's settle this between the two of us," Cal continued, breathing heavily against the strain of feigned bravado and the weight of her sword's position. Okku paused, as if scrutinizing her. Despite the cocky show, she was shaken and obviously afraid. Okku huffed, flaring his nostrils.

"No, little one," he slowly and nigh imperceptibly shook his great head. "You mistake the will of these spirits. I would have come alone, but their resolve was too strong. I follow _their_ will in this. All the land is united against you."

Cal's grip on her sword slackened as realization dawned across her face.

"We will drag your corpse to the cavern of runes, and there you will _stay_!" Okku bellowed before throwing himself towards her. All at once, the spirit energy grew, the spellcasters cried out their incantations and Cal braced herself for the impact. She threw her sword up as her allies lunged out of the way, catching Okku's sweeping paw – she turned it up and it slit open just before propelling her backwards, throwing her into the grass. Blue light burst from gaping slice in Okku's paw, weaving through the pad and fur, winding around his toes – as if sewing it back together instantaneously. Cal's eyes widened in wonder and horror in tandem before Okku turned and his other paw – claws gleaming dangerously in the dim light – came down upon her.

Stars burst before her eyes as he struck her across the face. She dropped her sword and rolled as if a mere plaything, left dazed in the grass. The bear god lunged, snapping open his fangs to presumably take the throat she had offered, but Safiya's voice rose above the din of angry spirits. Okku's jaws suddenly began to slow, his velocity drastically reducing until he seemed very nearly frozen in the air. The Red Wizard tore across the grass and grabbed Cal, heaving her to her feet and pulling her stumbling away from the temporarily-stationary bear.

"Gann was right," she said quickly, dragging her away from the chaos for a brief reprieve. Safiya turned around and grabbed Cal's chin, turning her face to her own and frowned. Angry clawmarks tore across her face, primarily at her jawline and cheek. "His army is giving him so much power that he's going to be impossible to harm until they're taken care of."

"I noticed," Cal growled, wincing away with pain. That wince led her eyes to shift, and suddenly widen. She turned and tackled a bewildered Safiya to the ground, feeling the sordid, feverish tethers of Okku's energy grasp at her legs mid-air. The bear god had rushed them, and Cal lunged from atop her companion, barely missing his claws as he sought after her with an enraged roar. The might of his power seemed to override Safiya's attempts at disabling him, and his fury guided him directly through the waves of snarling spirits, following Cal's path. Her boots pounded through the frozen grass and slipped, sending her sprawling just beneath another sweeping paw. As she hit the ground, she reached her sword and grasped the handle, bringing it up with her as she turned. It swept through the air and halted at Okku's throat. The impact bit into his fur and flesh, and temporarily stopped him. A deep growl shook through the blade and down through Cal's arms as the pale, furious eyes of the bear god lingered within her own wide and terrified gaze. Blue light bubbled up from beneath the cut and began to stitch the wound, increasing the reverberations as it pushed her sword from his neck. Her grip tightened and twisted as she tried to keep the sword in place, using every ounce of her strength to hold him back.

Kaelyn's prayers had been answered with an outlet of spells designed to weaken and disarm opponents. It was the best chance at peace she had been given, after neither Okku nor Cal agreed to a diplomatic resolution. Still, she could not touch Cal with anything that might aid in her defense, nor in her ability. Ilmater would not even allow her to empower Safiya, or Gann. She imagined that he stood firm in his resolve against war and bloodshed, but all the while, it was an immediate and visceral reaction rather than a strategic reasoning. She felt that Ilmater had forsaken them – and such scorn might eventually be cast upon her, for her role in the battle. But she would meditate upon that later. For now, in the midst of battle, she sent leagues of telthors and spirits fleeing from her sight as fear afflicted all who looked upon her. Her armor and eyes had been emblazoned with the fire of the rising sun, and the shadows cast by her wings reached out in great arching sweeps; the vision of angels had not always inspired peace and joy. They could, as she was, herald immense power. A power that even gods hesitated to test.

And those that fled met with the strength of the rebellion that scourged the opposing side of the battlefield. Unbeknownst to the half-celestial, Gann's spirits flanked him and met the frightened telthors, lunging upon them and tearing them down before they could escape. The spirit shaman's voice mingled with the din of howls and snarls, chanting spell after spell of elemental attacks upon the league. While Safiya and Cal had no choice but to engage the bear directly, Kaelyn divided their strength and sent them running into the gaping jaws of the scorned and furious spirits summoned by Gann, and his arsenal of offensive spells. Cal grit her teeth as beads of sweat ran into her eyes as the bear god settled atop her, his massive paws crushing her torso. She grimaced and yelped as his claws forced through her armor in his strength, biting down through her flesh. Okku's steady growling hinged into a pained snarl as all of the force she held in the blade seemed to converge. The blue light began to dim, and his force began to weaken. It nestled further into the fur of his neck as he shoved himself closer as Cal's stamina waned. Suddenly, the fury in his eyes faltered. He grunted with surprise as blood began to trickle down the blade's surface.

"There, you see!" Gann's voice called over the battle. Cal opened her eyes and Okku's ears twisted in his direction. "Slaying his spirit allies chips away at Okku's strength – but do not get overconfident, we have a long way to go!"

Okku paused, and suddenly his feral face contorted with rage. He roared and reared, heaving himself from atop her as he wrenched his claws from her flesh. Her blade swung from his neck, bringing traces of fur and blood with it, and her head rocked against the ground. The furious god twisted from her in one quick motion and began to barrel through the hoard, seeking his betrayer. Safiya was surrounded by spirits and prepared spell after spell to defend herself and assault them in tandem. She was afraid, and certain that she would not last the rounds of attacks – but something strange was happening. Perhaps to her or perhaps to the spirits, she was not sure – but she had not seen anything like it. Some struck at her with their claws; sharp and deadly natural weapons that would, under normal circumstances, leave her with grievous injury. But they dulled when they bit into her flesh, and left only minor traces that they had ever been there. Some spirits cast their own magic, assaulting her with the elements – but fire burned itself to small wisps before it could touch her, and ice melted into cold water at her skin. She was nicked, bloodied, scorched and bruised – but all in the most minor of ways.

And before they could become serious, Cal swept into their pack, cleaving spirits with her sword, and sending others scattering in start. Spirits sank into the ground and retreated to safer planes as her sword arched and flayed those with slower reactions. In the aftermath, she panted heavily and glanced to Safiya – who felt an immediate, surreal sense of calm in the face of a frenzied berserker. After quickly assessing that the wizard was not anywhere near death, Cal turned and sprinted through the battlefield, chasing after Okku.

"_Hagspawn_!" the god's voice soared like thunder through the fight. The few remaining spirits parted for him as he charged through the grass, directly in pursuit of Gann. The shaman turned and the look of renewed confidence dropped from his handsome face. Kaelyn watched and her gaze hardened, and the light suddenly fled from the bear god's eyes. Gann lunged away as he roared and twisted his ears in vain, swinging his head to and fro as if in the throes of madness.

"Honorless worm!" he snarled, flaring his nostrils as he blindly scanned his surroundings. Gann watched, transfixed as Okku began to inhale deeply and turn in his direction. "You forget that I can still _smell_ the stench of your wretched, half-breed hide!"

Gann's eyes moved to the bleeding gash upon the bear's neck and began to back up, away from the spirit as he surveyed their damage. He saw Safiya as she disintegrated their enemies one by one. He saw Kaelyn, fierce and formidable as she watched him, disabling spirits with none but a wave of her hand. He didn't see Cal. But Okku could not see or hear any of them. "Okku is weakened! Finish hi -!"

He was abruptly cut off by a savage snarl, followed at once by one of the telthors tackling him to the ground. It was large, fuller and more tangible than the other spirits – and it was furious. Gann held up his hands to guard himself as fangs bit again and again into his flesh. Whatever had pinned him had friends.

"_Betrayer_!" the spirit roared at him. He was dimly aware that someone – likely Safiya – was casting spells in his aid, but none had dissuaded his attacker. And the pounding drum of Okku's paws had drawn close. Gann felt his ice running cold as for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he was truly done for.

And then he felt the ever-present void of their party draw near. And with it – perhaps in its shadow, perhaps in its core – flared to life. Okku's paws ceased their drumming and he heard the mighty King utter perhaps his first and last cry of terror.

Blood pooled beneath the bear from his struck side, and the tip of Cal's greatsword embedded into the frozen ground. The god swayed, slipping to the side against the force of the arched impact and swung his head to face her. She looked feral enough to rival him; blood dripped from her own injuries, and his blood painted her pale face – which was currently contorted with a snarl of its own. But it was not her appearance that was intimidating, but rather the force of it – the force of her. A dormant strength had begun to unfurl within her; he scented it like the humidity before rain, like the breeze before the storm. And he feared it, that power, that thing he had imprisoned so many years prior. Cal wrenched her sword from the earth and swung it upright, her mouth opening in an angry gape. Okku had not quite discerned her from 'it,' until then, until he saw the hideous creature. Suddenly, he could feel the chill and smell the ice in the air, and that in tandem with the eyes that trained upon him reminded him of the dreaded truth of the matter. It, like he, had been sleeping for so long, he had not recognized its face. His hearing had returned before his sight, but that quickly followed – and he saw it. She lunged for him, and he roared, throwing himself out of the way of her sweeping blade.

His army – what remained of it – suddenly stopped in the midst of the battle. Their attention had trained upon him, in shock. To the living and two-legged, that roar could have easily been interpreted as a battle cry, but on their ears, it was a warning. It was humiliating and terrified, but it was also a command. He wanted his pack to back down, to surrender and disperse. But they did not listen. They lingered, watching as the girl lunged again. Her sword plunged into one of his paws, splitting it. He snarled with pain and his army drew near, threatening to converge upon her. And if they did that, it would all be over. Okku stared at her – not her, _it_. He looked into its eyes and saw the empty, hungry eyes of the parasite. It looked through her eyes and saw him, saw his spirit and he felt how it craved him. It reached for him, and as his pack drew near, it reached for them, too. There was only one chance of sparing them, and of sparing himself. The girl pulled her sword from his paw and began to rise it.

"Enough!" Okku cried, his ears flattening to his skull in surrender. The girl was already prepared to kill him, but his army would never allow her – not unless he made them. "I yield..."

There was a rush of unease and discord through the army; surely they felt the building strength of the storm, but they would not recognize it. Few had seen the monster he had kept locked away for so long; they would not recognize it. The girl, still holding her blade, stared at him – and that alone was disconcerting. Though he was hardly able to read the expressions of the two-legged the way he could read his allies', he knew enough to recognize that there should have been something. But she was rapidly changing; the parasite was hollowing out her body and mind.

"Hurry, little one! Take a blade – tear out my throat!" Okku begged, hoping that she might overcome it long enough to spare him. He shut his eyes and rose his maw, offering it to her. Pride was the last thing on his mind. The silence seemed to stretch on for eternity, and it gave him hope. Perhaps it was not too late; perhaps there was enough of her left intact, enough that she might kill him before she remembered...

"Why are you in such a hurry to die, spirit?" That voice did not belong to her.

Okku's eyes snapped open and he felt his brow wrinkling. The body of the girl stood over him, against the rising sun. Shadow engulfed her front, hiding nearly all but her face. The voice had been icy and barely contained, almost amused at his plight. Her allies drew near to form half of a circle around them, still fresh with blood and bruise from the battle.

"Not for my sake, little one. For yours. Hurry, kill me fast, before -," Okku said, but it was too late. Mid-sentence, there was the beat – or the reversal of it. Like an inverted heart, it suddenly squeezed and twisted, and Okku could feel it. Horror overwhelmed him, and all he could do was stare agape. The void stretched and yawned, uncoiling after its long, uninterrupted slumber. It was starving – and it was _angry_.

"This... is the same as what happened in the barrow, when you consumed the spirit wolf..." the Thayan observed, not so steady herself. Okku felt it reaching for him, he heard its inhuman groan.

"What _is_ that? It felt like... a backlash, a whip across my mind," the hagspawn appeared even more mystified than the Thayan. Doubtless he would celebrate in his loss – until he, too, was consumed. That fool had no idea what evil he had loosed upon the world by securing the girl's victory over him.

"Stop this attack! Whatever you're doing, you're feeding on his spirit, siphoning it!" surprisingly, the little bird had risen to his defense. But even she did not dare try to stop her leader. The girl had doubled over, wide-eyed and scowling with the force of it. In spite of her shaking, surely she could feel it growing stronger, too. Her eyes moved to Okku's, radiating fear and confusion in tandem. The god slowly shut his eyes.

"The presence inside you... it _wakes_..."

"What... is... this?" the girl managed to ask against the strain.

"Emptiness... hunger. Forgive me... I tried to stop you..."

The shadow of the girl standing before him transformed; great reaches of darkness rose from her back like wings, and as if propelled by it, her head tilted back and her feet lifted from the ground. Okku heard mingled noises of shock and awe from her pack, and felt the spirits around him disperse. They had finally heeded his warning. That much brought him relief in the face of oblivion. Tendrils of shadow wove out from the girl's body, grasping for him. He heard the furious growling of the monster, heard her allies pacing backwards, away from the inhuman thing she had become. Okku resigned himself and after a moment's hesitation, he sighed his last breath.


End file.
